


Batting for Boys

by Arenoptara



Series: The Baseball AU [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baseball, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, High School, M/M, everyone flirts with everyone, happiness, insensitive canon jokes, reiner being the beautiful inappropriate bastard he is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-01-18 18:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arenoptara/pseuds/Arenoptara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armin, Eren, and Mikasa join the Zhiganshina High Wings of Freedom baseball team, a team made up of rather eccentric and highly flirtatious individuals. Over the course of the season, Armin comes across things he hasn't ever before, such as betrayal from someone close to him, romantic feelings for his best friend Eren Jaeger, and the truth about what it actually takes to get into the big leagues.</p><p>“Now let's go out there and kick ass while Mikasa kicks <em>super ass</em>.” Eren grabbed the bill of his hat tightly. “Zhiganshina baseball!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're Going to Be Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist  
> http://grooveshark.com/#!/playlist/Snk+Baseball/96892004

There is nothing quite like the sport of baseball. When that bat is in your hands and you have the power to smash that ball out of the park, to see the crowd jump in the air as one, screaming, a thunderstorm; to see your friends' faces light up as they throw their caps into the air; to feel the the bases underneath your feet as you run free, soaring, untouchable, unforgettable; to feel your teammates crash into you in a wild group hug when you finally touch home base; and to know that, damn, someone threw a ball at you at 70+ mph and you sent it skyrocketing away.

The first time Armin saw a baseball game, he was two. The date was May 29th, 2000, and his family was right behind home plate, Dodgers hats on all their heads. Armin didn't know what was going on, what with being two and never watching baseball before, only that when the Dodgers won, the crowd went wild—and also during the bottom of the third he'd spilled his hot dog on his mom's skirt, effectively getting ketchup all over it, and she was so shocked she kicked her beer over, which soaked into Armin's dad's shoes. It was a great game.

The first time he watched a World Series he was almost five, and it was the year the Angels won their only World Series thus far. He and the crowd leaped to their feet and screamed—deafening—while the team rush into a chaotic mass of happiness and glory. From that moment on he knew he wanted to be a baseball player. He wanted those moments, that camaraderie. It started with Little League, and then in junior high he really got into the groove, to the competition.

Then in 2014 he joined the Zhiganshina High Wings of Freedom—with his two best friends Mikasa and Eren too! They'd all been playing in little community teams and intramural games, but nothing as exciting or official as the high school baseball team. Eren played second, and Mikasa reigned over left field, and Armin played third because in 2002, that's the position Troy Glaus played-- _and_ he got MVP that year.

Armin didn't know anyone personally on the team. It was recognition from afar—and they all had nicknames because of some age-old school tradition: Reiner “A-Team” Braun, Berthold “Colossus” Hoover, and Ymir “Dancer” Hoover were the star players of the team, the Golden Three, and all seniors at the school—Ymir was the scariest pitcher in the state, everyone said. Jean “The Stallion” Kirschtein, right handed starting pitcher, was popular too. Some schools had begged him to transfer to their teams over the years, and Jean almost did join the Sina High Riflemen, but in the end, he proved to be a Wing through and through.

And then there were the coaches! They said Levi Ackerman was the most intimidating man anyone had ever met—and that he and the third base coach Hanji Zoë had a thing going on. The two heads of the team, manager and pitching coach, respectively, Erwin Zacharius—formerly Erwin Smith—and Mike Zacharius, had quite the reputations. Erwin came from a Major League background, having played for the freaking Texas Rangers and the Dodgers, and Mike held five minor league records from his time with the Salt Lake Bees—the team Armin hoped to join since they went to the Angels and all.

Without a doubt, Armin was going to make a complete fool of himself when he finally met them. He had Erwin's baseball card—two, actually, from both his teams. It wouldn't be weird to ask him to sign them, right?

“He'll be totally cool about it,” Eren said as they rode their bikes to the first day of training, February 1st. “You saw him at tryouts, right? Everything's gonna be awesome.” He could read Armin's face so easily. It kind of freaked him out sometimes, honestly. But at the same time, it made his insides squirm knowing that Eren cared enough to decrypt his movement and facial expressions so he could help if he needed to.

“I hope so,” Armin said.

Eren sped up, yelling out excitedly as they entered a steep downward slope. His legs came up off the petals once they started the descent—and he even took his hands off the handlebars.

“If Mikasa sees you doing that--” Armin started, but Eren cut him off with a “Mikasa's not here!”

Armin tried it too, and the morons both did this the entire way down the hill. If Mikasa had been here, she would call them out on their reckless ways and blabber on about how they could have died. Sometimes they called her Mom Mikasa. Actually, Armin had accidentally called her Mom to her face a few times. The death glare had never been stronger.

She was already there, waiting for them outside the entrance to the school. They parked their bikes, tied them up, and the three of them walked inside. It was weird being in the school on a Saturday—everything was so _empty_. They split at the locker rooms—Armin almost went into the women's locker room, but Eren grabbed his sleeve and pulled him out before he got too far.

First day. Already off to a great start!

Most of the team was already there, including Berthold, Reiner, and Jean. Berthold and Reiner were half-dressed, both shirtless, talking to each other. The taller one, Berthold, number 12, relief pitcher known for his signature circle changeup, leaned back against his locker, arms folded, while Reiner hovered near him, hand leaning on the locker next to Berthold's shoulder. It didn't take a scientist to read that body language, what those _looks_ they were giving each other meant. While they were flirting—probably egregiously—Jean was off by himself, fully dressed, hat on backwards, stretching his arms. He was a sophomore, just like Eren and Armin.

“You must be the new recruits,” Jean said distastefully. “I looked up your records—I hope you're better than how your history makes you out to be.”

Reiner and Berthold noticed and looked over, both of them smiling.

“Ah, shut up, Jean,” Reiner said, walking over to the two and putting out a hand. “Coach Erwin wouldn't have recruited them if they weren't good enough. I'm sure you two will be just great—we've needed a good third basemen for awhile now. The last one—Thomas Wagner—he got eaten by the competition every single game.”

Eren shook his hand firmly, and Armin not as firmly, too distracted by what he'd said. “Really?” _Shit, don't tell me that. Now there's all this pressure. What if I let them down, too?!_

Jean rolled his eyes and kept stretching.

“You'll do fine, kid. Just listen to the coaches, play nice with the team, and everything should be smooth sailing.” Reiner grinned.

There was some noise in the hall—maniacal laughter, and then a farewell, and then some kid with a buzzed haircut and huge eyes walked into the locker room. He skirted around Armin and threw his bag onto one of the benches. “Ready to kick some Titan, Guardian, and Riflemen ass this season, guys?” Connie “Lightning” Springer, also a sophomore, and highly regarded as the fastest runner in fifteen years. The guy was a bullet. Armin had seen him in action on the middle school baseball team a few times.

“If there's ass, you know I'm always in!” Reiner agreed enthusiastically.

Jean and Connie groaned, and Berthold got all red in the face.

“Oh hey!” Connie said, seeing Armin and Eren. “New guys! So which one is Jaeger and which one is Arlert?”

“Uh I'm Arlert,” Armin said.

Eren grinned. “And I'm Jaeger.”

“Fucking awesome last name, man. You really hit the jackpot there!” Connie slapped them both on the arms and then went over to his locker, unlocking it and flinging it open. “I am so ready to train! Me and Sasha are gonna smoke all you bitches this season.”

“I'd like to see you try,” Reiner said. “Ten bucks say Bert, Ymir, and I still come out on top.”

“You're on!”

Armin could get along with these guys. They seemed even cooler in person. It was like meeting the first tier of his idols. Now to see them in action—personally. To be in action _with_ them!

“Where's Marco? That guy's always on time,” Connie said loudly as he slipped his shirt off and just drowned himself in deodorant. 

For some reason, everyone looked over in Jean's direction—when he finally noticed, his arms dropped to his sides and he looked at them all dryly. “Why is everyone looking at me? How should I know?”

Reiner snickered.

“Oh put on a shirt already, why don't you?” Jean snorted, grabbing the top half of Reiner's uniform from the bench and throwing it at his face.

 _How long is it going to take for me and Eren to be that chill with them? Baseball season only lasts a few months, and all these guys have known each other for a year or more at least. I don't want to be an outsider._ Armin took Eren's wrist and pulled him to the other side of the lockers—numbers 122 and 128. Of course Armin's was a top locker. He always got a top locker.

“I'll switch with you,” Eren offered.

“I'll live,” Armin sighed. 

“Hey,” one of the other team members said. “The name's Franz Hatch. Welcome to the team! These other bums are Samuel, Mylius, and Nac,” he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the other guys getting their uniforms on. They all turned and nodded and waved and then continued their conversation—something involving one of them wanting to join the military. “You guys weren't freshman here, were you?”

“We went to a four year junior high,” Armin said. “My mom wanted me to finish there.”

“Too bad!” Franz said. “You could have been on the team last season.”

Eren shrugged. “We still got three good years to be on the team. By the time we're seniors, Armin, Mikasa, and I will be the Golden Three.” He put his hand up just in time for Armin to high five it. That had been their plan, to be the top dogs in Zhiganshina, the faces everybody knew, respected, and feared. Mostly it was Eren's plan; Armin just wanted to play baseball with the best in a real competition and get closer to joining the big times, but if he could be one of the golden three, then why not?!

“Don't let Ymir hear you say that,” Franz said with a laugh. “Every time you mess up she'll make a big scene of it, no matter how big or small. She'll say it's just to help you better reach your goal, but I think she just gets a kick out of it.”

Great. Armin had to make sure he _really_ didn't make any mistakes with Ymir watching. He would already be under so much scrutiny, and he didn't want it worse than it already would be.

While Eren took out his card, where he'd written down the combination, Armin unlocked his own locker. He had that number memorized two minutes after he'd been given it. And he'd ripped up and thrown away the paper. Doing that made it easier for things to stick, like his brain _knew_ since the cheat sheet wasn't there to peek at, it just _had_ to remember or there'd be disastrous consequences.

One thing he liked about the Zhiganshina uniforms—they all had to wear the high socks. The other schools had the long pants. Something about it just wasn't as cool, though. The high socks felt so _official_. There was a rumor that five years ago it became mandatory because of Coach Zoe, something about liking how they looked on Coach Ackerman or something. Of course, it was high school, and high school students were notorious for spreading stupid rumors, especially if it involved a possible romance between two teachers.

Armin pulled the uniform out of his locker and just stared down at it. It was so _beautiful_. Like sewn from the threads of the gods or something. And on the back, his name, Arlert, written in forest green letters above the number seven. _And the hat._ Green with the Wings of Freedom on the front—and if you looked closely, you could see a Z in there for Zhiganshina. They were the most bad-ass of all baseball uniforms—no, that was a lie—the most bad-ass after the Angels uniforms. Nothing could beat those red and white uniforms of _glory_.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare at them all day long?” Eren joked. He had already slipped it on, sitting on the bench to put on his shoes now.

“Just savoring the moment,” Armin said. “One step closer to being an Angel.”

“You're already an angel,” Eren said.

Armin looked over quickly. “W-what?”

But Eren played the innocent. “Huh? I didn't say anything.” He jumped to his feet, took the hat out of Armin's hand, and set it on his head. “You look good in baseball caps.”

“Thanks,” Armin said with a smile. It was kind of stupid to notice this now, but Eren looked really good in baseball uniforms. Like Armin hadn't really seen him in them until now, even though they'd always played on the same teams for years. Not only did the bagginess somehow seem less baggy on him and just so, well, perfect, but the socks . . . the socks. Eren Jaeger in high socks. _His legs._ Armin's cheeks started burning and he turned away, taking off his shirt so Eren wouldn't notice.

Not only were baseball uniforms awesome, but they were so comfortable. Forget scrubs, this was where it was at. And never had Armin felt so glorious in his life than when he stood in front of the mirror and took in his appearance. He put the hat back on his head, folded his arms, and just nodded in satisfaction. Baseball. _Baseball._

“Having fun staring at yourself?” Eren said, coming up behind him and putting his hands on Armin's shoulders.

“Yes I am,” Armin said with a smile.

There were loud footsteps and then the master himself appeared: Erwin Zacharius. Blonde hair. Broad shoulders. A sure, and fiery look in his blue eyes. Behind him appeared Mike, his arms folded, gazing at the the male half of the team approvingly. They moved from player to player, shaking hands and welcoming them back for the next season of Zhiganshina baseball. When they got to Eren and Armin, Erwin smiled down at them—and Mike sniffed them?? Armin forced himself to stay still and not shy away from the wild nose.

“Don't mind him; he always does that,” Erwin said and shook both of their hands. “It's good to have to you with us. I look forward to seeing your dynamics with the rest of the team.”

Eren nodded once firmly.

It wasn't the time to ask Erwin to sign his baseball cards, right? They were just over in Armin's backpack, sitting in his locker. It would only take a second or two, and then it could be over with, and they wouldn't have to worry about anymore. Having Erwin sign those cards was like a right of passage for Armin. A sign that he truly was on his way to becoming a major league baseball player.

It all came out in a rush, “Coachsirwouldyousignmybaseballcardsifthat'sallrightwithyoucoach?!” He cleared his throat and tried it again when Erwin blinked. “I have some baseball cards, coach. If it's no trouble--”

Erwin started laughing. “No trouble at all.”

Eren cast Armin an excited glance, and then Armin was off to his locker, fumbling with the locker—and for a second he forgot the combination—but then he got it open, and he fished out the two cards. Then he realized he didn't have a marker or anything for Erwin to actually _sign_ with. He stumbled back. “I, er, don't have a marker.”

But like the guy was magical, Mike fished a sharpie out of his back pocket and handed it to Armin. There was no explanation for why he was carrying a sharpie in the back pocket of his uniform. Armin accepted it and then gave it to Erwin. He watched as those perfect hands—Erwin's career batting average was _.324_ \--sign his name: small, confined, easy to read, but with this hidden elegance that only Center Fielder Erwin “Legion” Smith could have. He handed the cards back, and Armin held them softly like they were the most precious items to ever exist on this planet.

“Thank you, Coach!” he said.

“Anytime. Now, guys,” Erwin said, turning to the whole team—who had been watching with sparkling humorous eyes. “We start in fifteen. Coach Ackerman will be here soon, and by that time, be ready to get on the field.”

Mike slung an arm around Erwin's shoulders, and the two of them continued on through the locker room to the outdoor entrance that led to the field.

“Bert and Jean did the same thing when they joined the team,” Reiner said, peering down at the cards in Armin's hands. “I didn't even know who Coach Erwin was.” He laughed once. “Bert's the baseball nerd. I'm just here to hit balls and take names. Now I did _not_ mean that the way it sounded, but at the same time, now that I think about it, let's just go with it.”

Armin put the cards back in his locker, and took out his mitt, slipping it on his right hand. He flexed his fingers a bit, and then punched into it with his left hand. “First day, Eren.”

“Been waiting for this for a long time.” Eren slung his arm around Armin, just like Mike had with Erwin. “Now let's go out there and kick ass while Mikasa kicks _super ass_.” He grabbed the bill of his hat tightly. “Zhiganshina baseball: day one!”

From the other side of the lockers came a soft breathy voice. “Sorry, sorry! My sister painted the car seats with peanut butter and we had to clean it up and put towels on it and—that's not important. Sorry!”

“Ay! Marco!” Reiner and Connie said together.

Eren and Armin came round to join the party. It was Marco “Freckles” Bodt, the junior short stop, and widely recognized as the nicest guy in the whole entire school. He just threw his bag on the ground, and in record time, got out of his designer clothes and into his uniform. He got his hat on just when the one appeared, the little shadow Levi Ackerman—also Mikasa's uncle. Everyone straightened up at once like they were in the military addressing their captain or something.

“Kirschtein, what have I told you about wearing your cap like that?” he said.

“That I shouldn't?” Jean shrugged. “Something like that. Coach.”

Levi blew out some air. “Tch.” His eyes scanned the others—resting for a moment longer on the panting Marco. “Today is first day of training for the 2014 season,” he started loudly. “The past three years, the Titans have beat us every state championship. This year is going to be different.” Levi walked forward to Armin and Eren—Armin wasn't used to having to look _down_ at an adult. It was only a one inch difference, but to Armin, it could have been one foot. “Arlert, you're a third basemen, correct?”

Armin stood up straight and tall, hands behind his back. “Yes, Coach.”

“Anything will be an improvement from Wagner,” Levi said. He moved on to Eren, who stared at him with wide eyes, shaking a bit. Levi had always been Eren's hero, like Erwin was Armin's. Levi had only played one season in AAA, quitting to focus on coaching instead, but he had made quite the impression during the one season. He'd gotten several major league requests, but Levi turned all the contracts down. Being Mikasa's uncle, Eren had seen him a few times, but never actually talked to him, despite Armin's insistence that he should. “And you, Jaeger, you're second baseman?”

“Just like you were, Coach,” Eren said, half-smiling.

Levi stared at him a moment, then kept on walking to the other end of the room. “On the field in two. If you're not there when the clock hits ten, you're off the team. No exceptions.” And he vanished into the darkness of the hallway.

“Good old, Ackerman. Team wouldn't be half what it is without him!” Marco said pleasantly. “He's tough, but couldn't ask for a better coach.” He turned to Jean and tapped his forehead. “You still wearing that backwards to upset him, Jean? One day he's not going to keep letting you get away with it.”

Jean smirked. “We'll see.” He grabbed his mitt from the bench and flipped it up in the air. “For now, let's play ball!”

Armin and Eren brought up the rear as everyone ran down the twisted corridors, finally reaching the outer doors. They all stepped into the bright morning sunshine, whooping and laughing. The women were all out on the field already: Sasha “The Arrow” Blaus, Annie “Lioness” Leonhart, Krista “Goddess” Lenz, Mina “Smiley” Carolina, Hannah “Irish” Overgaard, Mikasa, Ymir, and some other faces Armin didn't recognize. They were already warming up, casually tossing balls back and forth to each other.

Before he stepped onto the grass, Armin stood on the edge. Eren stopped and turned when he realized Armin wasn't by his side anymore. “Hey, Armin, what are you--” And then he laughed. “Right. Savoring the moment.”

“First steps onto hallowed ground, Eren,” Armin insisted. “Once I step on, I never go back.”

“How dramatic. But if you don't get on the field in like, ten seconds, Levi's gonna kick you off,” Eren said, nodding to the clock on the side of the clubhouse. The red seconds arm was ten seconds away from turning the clock to ten o'clock. With Levi's reputation, Armin couldn't take any chances. With three seconds to spare, he jumped on the field, and then broke into a run with Eren.

The ladies stopped their exercises to greet the boys. Franz and Hannah collided in an ecstatic hug, while Ymir and Berthold did some snappy secret handshake. She rested her elbow on his shoulder, leaning on him, while giving Reiner a challenging up-down. Most of the others just high-fived each other and made weird animal noises—was that another tradition or were they just being weird?

“Eren, Armin!” Mikasa waved her arm in the air. She always looked so good in hats, especially baseball caps. It was weird to see her without the signature red scarf Eren had given her on her ninth birthday. The other coaches in the past were scared of Mikasa's talent and the fact Levi was her uncle, so they allowed her to wear it all the time, but the coaches were having none of that now.

Some blonde hair caught Armin's eye and he looked over—it was Annie Leonhart, temporarily removing her cap to fix her bun. She put it back on her head and then squished the sides of the bill so it curved some more. For a brief moment, she caught Armin's eye, but there was no emotion in her blue eyes, and she looked away when Mina tugged on her sleeve, saying something excitedly.

“She's pretty, isn't she?” Armin said, mostly to himself, but the others heard.

“What? Who?” Eren asked, some kind of tone in his voice.

Armin nodded his head to Annie. “Annie.”

Eren wrinkled his nose. “Well, I don't know, sure. Maybe. I hear she's an ice queen, though.” He folded his arms and turned away. “We need to start practice. Focus, right, Armin? You've waited for this day a long time.”

“I know,” Armin said, blinking. He caught Mikasa's eye, and they rolled their eyes together. _What's Eren's problem?_

Someone whistled, and everyone turned, straightening up again when they saw Levi was addressing them. “I hope you brats all memorized the stretching regimens I sent out last week. Today we'll be doing number two, followed by training regimen number seventeen. Is there anyone who didn't get the files or has not memorized them?” His eyes scanned the crowd. Even if someone _hadn't_ gotten them, they weren't about to speak up. That's what friends were for—asking them what the hell was going on so they didn't look like idiots, especially on day one of practice.

“Good,” Levi said with a nod. “You have fourteen minutes to warm-up.”

They all broke into a run towards the edge of the field by home plate—there were a few dawdlers, those who didn't know what was going on, and just went with the flow. Armin knew all ten stretching regimens and thirty-two training regimens by heart. Today they were supposed to do three laps around the field, followed by certain leg stretches, thirty push-ups, some yoga pose, and ending with two minutes of jumping jacks. It all equally timed out to fourteen minutes if you kept up within the allotted time limits for each action. The last minute was for cool down and stragglers.

Connie and the Golden Three took the lead, all effortlessly kicking away at the ground. They sailed smoothly like cats. Jean headed the middle group, Sasha at his heels. Armin, Eren, and Mikasa stayed at the rear of the middle group. As long as he wasn't in the very back, Armin was fine. The others could have gone on without him easily, but they all liked to stay around each other. It was just some unmentioned pact they'd entered years ago the first time they played baseball with each other.

Near the clubhouse, someone turned on music and blasted it out across the field on the huge speaker system. It was easier to run to the beat of Joan Jett's “Treading Water.” Eren started singing the lyrics really loudly, poking Armin in the arm as he did so. From up near the front, Jean shouted back, “Shut up, Jaeger. You can't sing!” That just made Eren sing louder. Armin laughed and joined in, even though singing while running was almost impossible for him. It was more like weird breathiness on a note.

Halfway through the song, everyone had joined them—even Jean. They all came around for the second lap around the field. The coaches all held out their hands for the team to high five as they came by. When Eren went to high five Levi's hand, Levi moved his hand out of the way at the last second, and Eren was left to smack the air. Behind him, Levi smirked and Hanji elbowed him.

“Oh I see how it is,” Eren said and his nose crinkled in determination. He picked up his pace, flying away from Armin and Mikasa, passing the middle group, and even Jean, sprinting just behind the frontrunners. When they came back around, Armin saw Eren go for Levi's hand again, but this time Levi sighed and kept his hand in place. When Eren smacked it he held his arms up in the air with a victorious cry, and slowed down, letting Armin and Mikasa catch up to him again.

“One more lap,” he said excitedly.

Armin sucked in a huge breath through his nose and pressed on, even though his thighs had begun to burn uncomfortably. He was good at short distances, running from base to base, but he was no long distance runner. The farther they got along, the slower he got, but Eren and Mikasa organically slowed with him without mentioning it. Eventually they drifted to the back, finishing five second behind everyone else.

The stretches were easy—Armin was pretty flexible, and the stretch felt good after the run. In the end, they finished second, after the Golden Three and Jean, and Eren collapsed on the ground, breathing in and out heavily for the cool down. Because they finished so early, they had two minutes to rest.

Right on the dot, Levi got them up, and they formed up in ranks.

“All right,” Levi said. “Blaus, are you chewing gum again?”

“Why yes sir, I think I am,” Sasha said and blew a huge bubble. It popped with an extraordinarily loud snap.

Levi sighed, muttering something under his breath that had Hanji grinning, and then continued his spiel. “As per the regimen, we're going to do a practice game right off the bat--” Hanji started giggling “--no pun intended. The rest of us will judge you all individually in three categories: batting, fielding, and teamwork. For the pitchers, pitching will replace the batting category. Of course. First picks on defense.”

First picks, meaning the players who would play in most of the season's games. The others would be up to bat this round. The players dispersed, and Armin took it all in from his place by third base: Marco on shortstop, Eren on second, Mikasa in left, Krista the catcher, Annie on first, Connie in right, and Sasha in center.

Armin stared down at his mitt, breathing in and out evenly. This was his first real showcase of what he could do. Erwin and Levi stood in as the infield umpires, while Mike stood behind home plate. Hanji and Nanaba were the third and first base coaches respectively. Petra, the bullpen coach, was off with the other two pitchers—Jean was up first, standing on the mound, hat on backwards, looking all official.

A few feet away, Hanji started talking to Armin. “I have been waiting for this for so long! It's gonna be so awesome. And I can't wait to see how you play, Arlert. You and Jaeger.” She clapped her hands together. “And Leonhart. I've seen her play for the Riflemen, and she is a dream come true.”

Armin looked across the infield to where Annie stood, digging her toe into the dirt and then stomping it. It was curious why she had transferred schools. The Riflemen and the Titans had been the top teams the past three years, and were expected to do well again this year. But Annie, according to scuttlebutt, had transferred for the sole purpose of being on the Zhiganshina baseball team. Whatever the reason, Armin was glad to have her.

“Here we go,” Levi called, blowing a whistle.

The music changed just as he whistled to Marina and the Diamonds' “How to Be a Heartbreaker.” Reiner came up to bat and pointed at them all, mouthing along with her. “Rule number one.” Then he got into his batting stance—hands low and tight, feet wide and solid on the ground. He didn't move much.

“Give it to me good, Kirschtein,” Reiner said.

“Isn't that what you're supposed to tell Berthold?” Jean said.

Reiner grinned dangerously.

Jean's form was flawless—and unique. Armin didn't see too many pitchers, professional or non-professional, throw submarine pitches. It was the perfect pitch for same side batters—Reiner and Jean were both right-handed. The pitch flew up, seemingly to end above the strike zone, before cutting down, Reiner's bat swinging just above it.

“Strike one!” Mike called much more loudly than he needed to.

“Was that good enough?” Jean said, flashing his teeth.

Reiner got into position again, eyebrows furrowed.

The next two pitches were outside the box, and Reiner didn't swing. The next one went in the top inside corner, and Reiner hit it. The ball soared out towards the outfield. Connie sprang into action, racing across the field like the wild chipmunk cheetah he was, mitt in the air. He leaped in the air, his mitt enclosing around the ball, and came down on the ground, sliding across the grass. And even though Reiner was out, Connie got up on one knee and threw it to Eren as fast as he could.

Reiner flipped his bat away and pointed at Connie. “Damn you and your inhuman speed Springer!”

Next to bat was Mina, pigtails resting over her collarbone. She stuck the bat into the plate and then held it up. Two strikes, a foul, and then she hit a grounder to first. An easy unassisted out for Annie, who scooped it up and lightly touched the bag with her heel.

All the balls in the first inning steered clear of third base. Jean ended the inning with no hits allowed, and they switched places.

Armin was eighth in the lineup, before Krista, and after Sasha. By the time he got to the plate, making sure the batting helmet was on securely, there was two on base: Sasha on first, and Mikasa on a stolen third.

“Come on, Armin!” Eren called from the dugout.

Armin lifted the bat up, hands gripping it tightly, then loosely, and tightly again. It was something he had just always done since his first game. Eren called it Armin's Strangling Mode, like he was trying to strangle the bat to death whilst having a moral crisis about it. That made Armin smile, thinking about the time Eren had told him that. He held his bat up high, twitching in the air, his right leg out far, while his body rested most of its weight on his slightly-bent left leg.

The pitcher was Mylius—My, as he liked to go by—not the greatest pitcher until it came to fastballs which he could throw faster than Superman could fly. The ball came whizzing past Armin before he realized what was happening. _Keep your eye on the ball,_ he thought, eyes glued to the ball as Hannah lobbed it back to Mylius. Armin was so in tune with the moment now, he could practically feel Hannah's fingers moving behind him, signing to Mylius. The pitcher gave a little nod.

A ball. Armin could tell. And that's how Mike called it. One strike. One ball. The next one was probably going to be another fastball. Armin didn't really know how he knew that, but he'd had six batters go through Mylius, and even that time was enough for Armin to get a feel for the pitcher. That was one of the things past coaches had loved about Armin: his ability to foresee pitches, and also his judgment at the plate.

Bingo! Fastball, low and outside. A bad mistake. Armin swung, his muscles shoving all his energy into the bat. He felt the vibrations as the ball connected with the bat right in that sweet spot, sending good tingles all through Armin's body. With a delicious crack, the ball soared up over to the outfield between the second basemen and the center fielder. Now came one of Armin's weaknesses: running to the plate. The others were fast. He had to push himself harder than before.

In the distance, he heard Eren and the others cheering him on. He kept the bag in sight at all times, very aware of the sound of the blood pumping in his ears, of his breath flowing through his lungs and his entire body, and then out. Thank goodness he could overshoot the first base. His foot smashed down on the bag just a couple of seconds before the first basemen, ball in hand, put her foot on the plate. Armin put on the emergency brakes, cleats churning up the dirt as he came to a stop.

Standing tall, he walked back to the base and let out a relieved breath. His team was cheering like crazy, and Levi was giving him the smallest of impressed faces. And Jean was pleased too, actually smiling. The best part was Eren, though, jumping up with his fist in the air. “Fuck yeah, Armin!”

The score now stood 2-0 after Armin batted Mikasa in. Sasha was safely at second. Next at bat was Krista. From the bullpen, Ymir let out a long whistle, and Krista winked. Was there anyone on this team who _wasn't_ a part of a romantic couple or did everyone just like flirting with each other?

Krista struck out after a hundred fouls, making way for Annie, number one in the lineup. She flipped her bat in the air like the had the first time she'd come up to bat. Her tongue swept over her lips and then she raised her bat, glaring a challenge at Mylius.

“Come on, Annie!” Armin called to her.

First pitch and she hit, one of those hits everyone knew was a home run. The outfielders ran to intercept in vain, stopping eventually to watch the ball soar over the wall between left field and center. Armin made his way round the diamond, a new surge of adrenaline racing through his body every time he touched a bag, until finally he touched home and Eren came crashing into him.

The training game was only a half game, ending at the bottom of the fifth. Armin only got on base one more time on a walk, striking out every other time. The ball only came to third base once—right to him actually—but he successfully aided in a double play that ended the game. The score was finalized at 6-3.

While the coaches huddled, discussing the scores, the players messed around on the field, congratulating each other and shouting obscene or dirty things. Yep, Armin decided everyone definitely liked to flirt with each other. The atmosphere was so relaxed with the team. Armin wondered where'd they'd been all his life and if it would be like this in the pros.

“Good job, man,” Eren said.

“I only got one hit,” Armin said.

“But it was a nice hit. And you give great moral support,” Eren insisted.

Armin opened his mouth to argue, but Mikasa joined with Eren. “You did do really well, Armin. That double play was very well executed.”

His face got all red and in a small voice, he said, “Thanks.”

Some of the others came over—Marco, Jean, Reiner, Sasha, and Berthold—to congratulate the new recruits. Reiner slapped Eren and Armin on the shoulders. “I see good things in your futures, my friends. This season is going to be hella fine! Just like Berthold's ass.”

“Oh my God, Reiner, can you go five minutes without mentioning how much you want to bang Berthold?” Jean complained.

Reiner put his hands up defensively. “How do _any_ of you manage to go your _entire life_ without mentioning how much you want to bang Berthold? Have you seen this boy? Have you?!”

Eren raised an eyebrow.

Berthold smiled shyly and looked down.

“Not as well as you have,” Marco said.

Sasha was still chewing her gum, even though it had to be nasty ass old by now, and blew another bubble, even bigger than the last one. “Yo, Armin, think you can give me a little practice on calling pitches. Cuz I suck ass at it. I'll buy you food every week.”

“Well, with free food, how can I say no?” Armin said.

“That's the spirit, Arlert!” Reiner encouraged.

Annie passed by, on her way to find Mina. Armin turned away from the others and held up a hand. “You did really good today.”

“Thanks,” she said and kept walking.

Eren frowned.

“She's not a real chatty person,” Sasha said. “Though, she doesn't seem to mind Mina's presence as much.”

“Mina's the least crazy out of all of you,” Jean said.

“That I can believe,” Eren said. “It's better than being a deadbeat though.” He gave Jean a significant look.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean, Jaeger?” Jean snapped.

Armin rolled his eyes.

The coaches called them to attention before the two get any further in their pissing match.

Levi held a clipboard in his arms, just finishing writing one last thing down. “Your scores will be posted outside the locker room on the bulletin board after you get dressed. If you have any problems, talk to Coach Erwin. You're all dismissed. See you after school on Tuesday.”

In the locker room, Eren seemed preoccupied with something, not talking a lot, and focusing extra hard on getting undressed. He grabbed a towel from the locker and tied it around his waist and then sat down on the bench, waiting for Armin to be ready. Armin tried extra hard to strip fast and get his towel, then the two of them walked to the showers, the first ones in. They flung their towels aside and turned on the water.

“Hey, you okay?” Armin asked through the sound of the rushing water.

Eren looked up and blinked. “What? Yeah.”

“You don't seem okay.”

“Just thinking about how I need to step up my game,” Eren said quickly and little too furiously. “I got to shine. Be better than all the rest of them. Just _smash_ the competition, you know. Kill all the Riflemen, all the Guardians, all the Titans—metaphorically of course. I'm not going to actually kill anyone.”

Armin made a confused face. _What the hell?_ “You've never been concerned with that before.”

“I know, but before I didn't have such strong competition. I can't sit back and play so casually like I've always done.”

“It's only day one of training,” Armin said. “Why don't you just focus on the normal improvements and enjoy it all before the season starts?”

Eren poured too much shampoo into his hands and lathered it in his hair. There was so much shampoo it was just a big white soapy mess. He kept massaging the shampoo in vigorously, like the Riflemen and Titans he wanted to kill so badly were in there. Armin had never seen him so crazy about anything before. What had suddenly turned this switch?

“Careful, you might shampoo your hair right off,” Armin said with a smile. Whatever, he'd let Eren do his thing. If it made him a better baseball player, all the better. As long as he didn't lose himself in the process like he did anytime he played video games. Video Game Eren and Eren Jaeger were two completely different beings. One was ruthless, cursed more than he said normal words, and never gave up, never let it go. Armin would keep tabs on him, make sure he didn't turn into the kind of guy who pushed you off the edge in Choco Mountain, or used a lightning while you going over the jump in Wario Stadium and laughed evilly about it for five minutes after.

At that, Eren couldn't help but laugh.

Hair damp and spirits high, Armin and Eren headed out to look at the bulletin. Mikasa was already out there reading over her score. Armin's name was near the top—the pros of having a last name that started with an A.

Arlert, Armin

Teamwork: 8/10  
Batting: 6/10  
Fielding: 7/10

And then in perfect flowing scrawl, Levi had written: Positive energy, excellent judgment at the plate, but lacks speed in both running and batting.

That wasn't too bad. And it was something he could work with.

Jaeger, Eren

Teamwork: 5/10  
Batting: 7/10  
Fielding: 7/10

-Average-high skills in most fields, weak judgment, and may cause friction in the team.

“Well, I can't complain,” Eren said. “That's true enough.”

“What about yours, Mikasa?” Armin asked. She just shrugged.

Ackerman, Mikasa

Teamwork: 6/10  
Batting: 8/10  
Fielding: 10/10

-Excellent in all fields.

“Really? That's all they have to say?” Eren said. “You're just too amazing, I guess, Mikasa.”

She shrugged again. “I don't really care what my stats are as long as they're not holding back the team. I play baseball because I like it, and because you two are here.”

Eren slung an arm over both their shoulders. “And we are gonna be heroes.”


	2. I Trust You the Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Practice, practice. Reiner & Berthold invite Armin & Eren to "hang out" and have lunch at a new restaurant in town.

Those two days flew by like Earth had suddenly decided days only had 5 hours instead of 24. Armin sat in his last period class, toe tapping on the ground, staring at the clock. Usually he paid attention up to the very last minute, but for the entire fifty minutes the teacher's voice was just this dull meaningless drone that went in one ear, had a tea party in the middle, and then left through the other ear. But whenever she asked a question, Armin needed .2 seconds to understand the context and he could answer as if he _had_ been paying attention because he always read the chapter in the textbook the day before they talked about it in class. He comprehended text books better than teachers anyway. Something about them not being condescending or anything since they were just words in a text book. And the author of the history book had a subtle sassy flair that the teacher lacked greatly.

Of course two minutes before the bell rang, she called out his name again, and he turned his huge blue eyes onto her more impatiently than he meant. She noticed that gleam in his eyes and she blinked because Armin never gave the teachers shade ever. “Never mind, I'm sure you know the answer, Arlert,” she said quickly and picked on another student. Maybe he could toss out some more snarky looks later on through the semester and evade the pointless questions. The teacher probably wanted someone to answer incorrectly now and then again anyway so she could actually get that thrill of having to correct them with some long-winded explanation no one cared about.

The bell rang mid-way through said spiel, and before she could tell them in a rush what homework was due, Armin was out of the door and heading to Eren's last period math class so they could head to the locker room for training. Usually Mikasa was there first, but today Armin beat her by thirteen full seconds. Eren came out, face red as a pepper, and instantly went into a tirade about how much he hated his Algebra II teacher. He wasn't the only one who'd complained about Mr. Verman. According to Eren, the guy was “A cocky son of a bitch. The king of scumbaggery. He fucking gave me a thirty second stare down with the most disappointed contemptuous look I have ever seen on a human face—besides Coach Ackerman's—and then he took fifteen whole minutes for a private and _loud_ study session with me to explain how to do these fucking problems while he let all the other kids do their own shit while listening to him baby me. Damn it all to hell. I'm switching out of that class.”

“You can't,” Mikasa said. “It's too late into the semester. I'll talk to the administration, though.”

“Don't you dare, Mikasa. You're not my mom,” Eren said in a huff. “I can drop the class and have it as a free period.”

“But you'll get behind on math,” Armin put in.

“Well I don't _have_ to take Calculus. If I drop Algebra II and get a different teacher next year, then I can take Pre-Calc senior year and still have the required credits to graduate. I should just do that. And if they fucking put me in Verman's class I'll tear them a new one,” Eren said, his hands curling into fists.

Mikasa put her hand on one of them. “Eren, calm down.”

And just like that, the steam blew out of Eren and his shoulders sagged, his head drooped. “It's not my fault I suck at math.”

Armin bit his lip. “I told you I'd help you with it. It still stands. And when you improve Verman won't have the excuse to treat you like a little kid.”

A small smile appeared on Eren's face. “Since my pride is gone after that period, I suppose I should accept.”

Armin rolled his eyes. “We can work on it after baseball. Just pretend the ball is Verman.”

“Good idea!” Eren said with a wild grin.

Twenty minutes later the team was assembled on the field—Jean had sunglasses today, his hat still on backwards. Before starting, Levi, 5000% done, called him out on his shit again. “Kirschtein, how many times do I have to tell you? No sunglasses.”

“But the sun's in my eyes otherwise,” Jean said.

“Then wear your hat correctly,” Levi snapped.

“No can do, Coach,” Jean insisted, readjusting his shades. “It doesn't fit on my head right otherwise.”

Levi's hands dropped to his sides, the clipboard in his hand slapping against his thigh. “Then I'll make it fit right.” He started forward, but Hanji lightly grabbed his sleeve with two fingers, and he stopped. As he shirked out of her grip and gave her a glare, Armin noticed Jean smiling to himself like the bastard he was.

With Sasha and her gum-chewing, Levi didn't even bother. “Stretching regimen 2, and training regiment 12. You have 15 minutes. Don't slack.”

One lap around the field and a lot of calisthenics that Armin aced. Training regiment 12 consisted of focusing on batting the first half of training, and then fielding. The coaches and pitchers would take the field and every player would be at bat. Levi took second base, Petra first, Nanaba third, Hanji left, Erwin center, and Mike right. “It's Not Unusual” by Tom Jones came on over the loud speakers and then Levi called for them to begin.

Ymir was pitching first, with Krista on bat first. The first throw was an easy hit over Levi's head and into a diving Erwin's glove. As he threw it back to Ymir, he shouted, “Don't go easy, Hoover.”

“Just my declaration of love, Coach,” Ymir insisted and lifted her cap up to air out her hair, and then smashed it back down to block the sun out. “Now the game is on, Watson.”

Krista smiled. “Do your worst, Sherlock.”

Berthold's face got all red and most of the team were shaking their heads. When Armin asked what was the matter, Reiner—of course, Reiner, the volunteer when it came to anything dirty—said, “It's their thing.” He didn't need to add “in bed” because his tone implied everything.

“You're all a bunch of dirty horny fucks,” Jean complained.

“I'm sure Marco wishes you were more of a horny fuck, Kirschtein,” Reiner muttered quiet enough that Marco couldn't hear but Jean could. Jean's face turned this fascinating shade of red that no other human had quite been able to reach, and he threw his mitt at Reiner—it missed, hitting Berthold in the head.

“Hey!” Berthold complained and threw it back into Jean's face. “And you call yourself a pitcher.”

“That was for Reiner.”

“Will you guys shut up?” Eren complained. To Armin he mumbled, “It's a wonder any of them can play baseball.”

Armin laughed. “I think it's funny.”

Eren just stared dryly at him.

Back on the field, Krista had finally gotten a hit after some advice from Erwin and Nanaba. She did a celebratory run to first base and switched with Nac for catcher. Next up was Annie, who casually stepped up to plate and got into position, staring at Ymir evenly. Ymir visibly shook up everyone but Annie and Krista. Nothing really seemed to bother Annie, actually. Without a doubt she had the best clutch of the entire team, even more so than Mikasa, because even Mikasa had a weakness: Eren. If Eren was having trouble of any kind, she often spent more time thinking about how to make it better than to actually do well in the game. Which pissed Eren off to no end when Armin had told him.

But Annie had none of that. And she stood so still, eying the pitches Ymir threw with bone-chilling accuracy, like she had enhanced sight and instincts. It made Armin breathless watching her stand so still when those balls flew by out of the box, her hair swishing with the wind. Not only was Ymir terrifying, but she threw the fastest—like 80+. The highest recorded fastball speed for her was 92 which made everyone piss their pants. She threw one of them fastballs now, but instead of shying away, Annie swung her bat and the ball soared up into the air. She jogged towards first while keeping her eye on it—as it hit the back wall and bounced into Petra's glove.

“How did the Riflemen ever let her go?” Armin said in wonder.

“Humph,” Eren said. 

Annie came back and stood at the end of the line, ignoring everyone's looks, and casually tucked some hair behind her ear. The coaches hadn't offered any advice because at the moment, she didn't need any. 

The next, batter, however was a different story. Eren was up next, and he stormed up there like some angry beast, with Armin calling after him, “Remember, the ball is Verman!”

It wasn't a good idea, though, because Eren just swung at the first pitch and missed it by a mile. Focusing on bashing Verman away than on the actual ball coming towards him. He shook his head, staring at the plate to get back into his baseball mind.

“What's got his dick in a knot?” Jean asked.

But Armin was at a loss. He'd been fine before Annie had gone up to bat and them suddenly he'd lost his mind. Eren was weird. And angry. Armin had accepted that a long time ago. What didn't make sense was how vigorous his angry determination was now. He lifted his head, rolled it around his neck with some satisfying popping noises, and then raised his bat. Levi called out some tips, and maybe Eren used them, because the next time that ball came soaring towards him, he sent it right back at a wicked speed. Right into Hanji's glove, but that ball had had a motor on it, and if it had hit the bat just to the left, it would have been a home run.

“The only way to beat Verman is to get to first base,” Armin called to Eren, hoping that would help a little better.

Pop up, caught by Ymir. Some fouls. Eren called time-out, rested his bat against his leg, and then grabbed some dirt in his hands. It made Armin smile, because when Eren did this, he was trying desperately to look cool after he'd been messing up. In a few seconds he'd do his little chuckle. Dramatically, Eren flipped his head up, hair flying, and then his lips curled into a twisted grin—and there it was, a cocky chuckle.

But alas he missed again, ball straight to Nanaba.

“Free coffee on me if you get a hit, Eren!” Armin called.

And as if those were the magical words of strength, they all heard that beautiful crack, and the ball flew right into left field, right onto the line—barely fair—and Eren ran to second base just because he could. When he came back, he gave Armin and Mikasa a high five and then stood next to Annie, giving her the smuggest of looks.

_Was he trying to be better than Annie?_ Armin thought vaguely.

Mikasa came up next, just as the song “Bad Karma” started. They all watched as she hit the second pitch out of the park, and Ymir cursed, and the coaches cheered. When she came back to the end of the line, Reiner declared, “That's your song, Mikasa. That is _your_ song.”

“What do you mean?” Eren asked.

“Everyone gets their at-bat song, but the rules of the Wings of Freedom say you can't choose your own. I choose 'Bad Karma' for Mikasa. Fits her bad-assery, don't you think?” Reiner asked. “Still need to find one for you and Armin.”

Armin had never had a walk-up song. He trusted them to find a good song that made him cooler than he actually was. Something with a lot of guitar, something everybody knew. He was at bat now, and he tried to think of something as he made his way over there, but nothing popped up in his head. Bon Jovi? Foreigner? Boston? They were all too good for him. Eagles?

Fall Out Boy's “My Songs Know What You Did In the Dark” came on. “Light em up, Armin!” Eren shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth so it carried farther.

Even from afar, Ymir looked so tall and intimidating, holding her glove up to her body, giving him a lazy smile. She had evil plans for him. And they would all go through. All Armin could do was hope he could read her pitches as well as he could Mylius and Jean. He had yet to face the Hoover half-siblings, and if he had it his way, he wouldn't be batting against her right now, but how else was he going to get good enough for the pros if he didn't fight—bat against the best?

The fastball came in so fast Armin didn't have time to comprehend she'd thrown the ball until it was nestled safely in Krista's glove. Not only was he batting against Ymir, but her woman was catching behind Armin. They were probably the dream team, with the most deadly of pitches in store for their teammates. Armin gripped his bat tighter and gritted his teeth. He had this. He wouldn't let them foil him.

But the next ball had no spin, and it ended up going in a completely different place than he expected. _That's right; Ymir can throw knuckleballs. But why would she throw them against me? Or any of us? None of the other schools have knuckleballers. She's just trying to unravel me. I got this. You got this, Armin._ A bead of sweat broke loose from his hairline and dripped between his eyes and over to the tip of his button nose. It fell onto his lips as soon as he swung. Foul.

Armin rotated his shoulders, easing his muscles—the coaches were giving him some pointers, and he subconsciously took them in. His eyes narrowed in concentration. _You can do this. Watch how she throws. How her leg comes up in a way different during a fastball. And she extends her arm so far before she releases the ball. You got this._ He let out a stream of breath, just as she got ready, her leg coming up, but it wasn't the way she lifted it for a fastball, and it wasn't a knuckleball. Curveball. Armin had this. If there was anything Armin could hit, it was curveballs.

The bat and ball connected, and it was just enough, just out of reach of Erwin's glove that Armin could make it to first base.

They went through that lineup three times, everyone getting better with each at-bat, and then everyone switched. Armin thought it'd be easier, being in the outfield, but the coaches were the ones batting. They didn't get to be where they were now without being hella good. Hanji and Levi were the scariest, and for different reasons. Levi was this black shadow that sucked up all the light and struck fear into the hearts of men and women. He wasn't a power hitter, but he got a hit every time, and by the time the other players got around to realizing they needed to play shallow, Levi switched it up and it went right over their heads. As for Hanji, she _was_ a power hitter, and particularly good against Berthold, who blinked too much every time she came up to the plate.

“Don't sweat it, Bert!” Reiner called.

Too late, because the boy's face was drowning in nervous moisture. Hanji gave a sweet smile, her eyes glowing crazily—Levi watching from behind with the most adoring look ever. Berthold let the ball loose, and Hanji smacked it right out of the park.

“Hanji,” Erwin said, when Levi was silent, “we're supposed to be helping them with fielding. Not showing off how well you can hit against them.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hanji said, but she didn't look sorry at all. She handed the bat to him and then went to stand beside Levi, leaning an arm down on his shoulder.

Erwin could smoke all of them. But he knew this was training. And wherever he wanted to hit the ball, he did. Every time at bat he chose a different player. The third time around he chose Armin, a hit just above his head. Armin gathered up all the energy in his legs, and then catapulted himself into the air, glove extended. The ball caught in the very top of the mitt, and stayed in there for a second before popping out as Armin crashed back down to the ground. Somehow Armin got a grip on the ball with his bare hand—just as he landed on his ass—and hucked it to first base. Annie's mitt closed on it just mere seconds before Erwin's feet hit the bag.

“Aww yeah!” Armin cried out victoriously and gave Annie an air high five.

They switched with the other half of the team, the second picks. Armin plopped down on the ground, legs crossed Indian style, glove in his lap. When Annie walked by, he said, “You did good out there.”

“Thanks.” She sat down by herself at the end and watched Mina take her place at first.

“Yes, you two are so in tune with each other, aren't you?” Eren said snidely, sitting down beside Armin and Mikasa.

“I think the whole team is. It's better than the other teams we've been on, don't you think?” Armin said. “And I think I'm starting to get a grip on Ymir. She does this leg movement every time she throws a fastball.”

“I noticed that too,” Mikasa said.

Eren just stared blankly.

Training ended at five, with Levi informing them all to pick up the coach's thoughts on the training tomorrow morning in Erwin's office and to work on whatever the paper said for Thursday training. In the locker room, Armin sat shirtless on the bench drinking from his second water bottle while Eren hurriedly got dressed.

“What's your rush?” Armin said, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

But Reiner interrupted by calling a locker room meeting, and everyone gathered around his locker. “So Ackerman hates Titanic, right?” Everyone nodded—Armin and Eren hadn't known, but they nodded anyway. “The Hoovers and I have concocted an evil plan. Since we're seniors, we want to give the coaches a parting gift, thanking them and whatever. Each parting gift will be specific to the coach. For Ackerman, it'll be Titanic themed. I was thinking a cake with a Titanic reference, and then Titanic music just blasting whenever he walks into the locker room. Cake ideas and other ideas are welcome. Next training I'll bring a shoebox and you guys put your ideas in, okay?”

They all put their hands together in the center of this wonky circle, and then started cheering obnoxiously loud.

“Hey, Jean,” Armin asked as the group split up. “Why do you upset Coach Ackerman all the time?”

“It gets him off,” Reiner inputted from nearby.

Jean grabbed his hat and slapped Reiner's back with it. “Because I can.”

“Really? That's it?” Eren asked from beside Armin.

“What more reason do I need?” Jean asked, leaning against his locker. “It's fun to push his buttons.”

“One day you're going to wake up with your balls missing, Jean,” Connie warned, spraying some expensive looking cologne on the top of his buzzed head.

Jean rolled his eyes. “I think you're using that wrong, Connie.”

“I can use it however the fuck I want,” Connie protested and just to spite Jean, sprayed more just all over his body so he reeked of some musky woodsy scent that would be good in moderation, but now just smelled like they'd walked into one of those soupy Hollister stores. “Oh, sorry, did you want some?” He grinned and started spraying all over Jean, who started yelling, and running away. Connie just followed him, spraying more and more of the cologne as they raced around the locker room. Everyone started groaning as some spray landed on them, and soon the whole team had been marked by Connie.

“What the hell is going on in here?” came Levi's disgruntled voice. “Did Kirschtein die and that's his rotting corpse?”

Immediately the two boys stopped and Connie his the cologne behind his back.

“Well?” he asked, putting a hand on a hip.

“Yes, sir it is,” Eren said. He gave Jean a look, to which Jean gave him a death glare, but he got on the ground and pretended to be dead.

Levi shook his head. “Be out in fifteen or you're staying locked in.”

When he left, Connie sprayed some cologne right onto Jean's close-eyed face. Jean leaped to his feet and snatched the cologne out of his hands.

At least Eren seemed to be in good spirits again, eyes aglow. It put Armin's mind at ease, seeing that look on his face. One of the best faces in the world. He wandered back to his locker and pulled out his shirt—it got stuck around his head, catching on an ear or something. Eren had to grab the bottom and yank it down. It left Armin's pristine hair all crazy and poofy and awkward. Eren chuckled, and Armin quickly smoothed it out.

On the way out of the locker room, Reiner and Berthold came up behind Armin and Eren. “Hey, you guys wanna hang with Bert and I tonight? We're going to this place that just opened a couple days ago.”

“Uh, sure,” Eren said.

“Cool. Double date it is, then,” Reiner said.

Both Armin and Eren's eyes widened to huge spheres. “Double date?”

“Yeah, aren't you two--” but then Reiner understood and he got so embarrassed Berthold had to take over.

“Not a double date, just us hanging out. Getting to know who will be taking our places on the team after we graduate,” he said flawlessly.

“Yeah, what he said,” Reiner mumbled.

“Oh . . . okay,” Eren said.

They left the locker room, and Mikasa was there, a good distraction.

“I'll text you the address,” Berthold said. He waved and then pulled Reiner away. Halfway down the hall, they started talking animatedly about something, but they were too far way for Armin to hear what they were saying.

_Did they really think Eren and I were a couple? Ha. Ha . . ._ But Armin couldn't help but glance at Eren, who was talking to Mikasa about something pointless. Talking really fast. Trying to get it out of his head. Armin didn't want to get it out of his head. He thought about it all the way home.

The restaurant was right in down town, in the place an old antique shop used to be. It was really busy, but Reiner and Berthold had gotten there early to claim a table. Berthold just had to stand up and wave, and the others saw him easily, even with all the people around. Eren had dressed up in nicer clothes than usual, which made Armin bite his lip in amusement because this place wasn't fancy at all, and Eren looked a little overdressed. Nice, but Eren's face was adorably pink and very aware of how much he stood out right now.

“We had to wait thirty minutes for this table,” Reiner said. “I hope you admire our dedication.”

“I do,” Armin said, taking a seat near the wall. 

Eren scooted in beside him. He picked up the silverware wrapped in a napkin, unfolded it, and then started staring at the fork like he was a mermaid who'd never seen such an interesting object before. Armin almost thought he'd start combing his hair with it, but instead he turned to Armin and said, “You owe me a coffee.”

“Make it a large with an extra shot of espresso. Make the boy pay a lot,” Reiner said.

“I'm not going to make Armin pay a buttload of money for a coffee for me,” Eren said.

But Armin smiled. “Buy whatever you want, Eren. I'll pay for anything.”

Reiner made a flat palm-up gesture to Armin with a look at Eren. “See.”

The waitress came over—Annie—and smiled a little at them.

“Annie, you didn't say you worked here,” Berthold said. “First night?”

“No, I worked opening night,” she said. “What do you guys want to drink?” She pulled out her pad of paper and awaited the onslaught: one raspberry lemonade for Berthold, one beer from Reiner that she manually changed to an iced tea, a water for Armin. Then it came Eren's turn, and they all looked at him expectantly.

Eren sat up straight and looked Annie carefully in the eyes. “All right, you ready for this?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Twenty four ounce skinny quadruple shot blended caramel vanilla mocha and no whipped cream,” he said.

Annie started writing, and then stopped halfway. “Sorry, can you say that again?”

But Eren seemed to have forgotten what he said before, and this time the order was, “Twenty four ounce skinny triple shot iced caramel coconut latte with no whipped cream.”

“What?” she asked and gave him a deadpan stare.

“Twenty--”

Armin broke in. “Twenty four ounce blended caramel mocha.”

Annie erased what she had previously written and fixed it to Armin's specifications. “I'll be back with those. Whatever you do, don't order the Home Run Platter. I know you want to being baseball nerds and all, but it sucks major ass. I've seen them make it. It's not meant for human consumption.”

“What about the, uh--” Berthold peered closer at the menu. “--Triple-A Cheeseburger?”

“Amazing.” She flipped her notebook closed, and headed off to the kitchen.

Eren stared down at his silverware again. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Armin said. But Eren had some kind of dejected look in his eye. “You okay?”

Everyone was looking at him. Eren rubbed his neck. “Yeah. Just hungry. What's this?” He opened his menu to a random page and read the first thing he saw, probably.

“Well, you see, an omelet is when you have eggs and then you--” Reiner started but Berthold put his hand on his and then the blondie got really distracted and looked over with hearts in his eyes.

While they got lost in each other, Armin scooted closer to Eren and put his chin on a hand. In a low voice, he said, “What's wrong? Don't tell me nothing because obviously something is after you ordered that monstrosity of a coffee.”

Eren closed the menu and then looked over. “I'm just . . . I didn't do as well as I should have in practice today. No one was at bat as long as me.”

“You just need to get into your groove. This happens every season,” Armin reminded him. “It was only the second practice. We still have a whole month to get ready for competition.” He started chewing on the inside of cheek. “If you want, next week I can write up a whole sheet of what you're doing right and wrong, and stats on the other players.” When Eren still didn't say anything, Armin added, “Eren you're one of the best players I've seen. Your batting average is .279. Mine's .213.”

“Sure,” he said with a little smile. “You're right. This is why I need you Armin. Keep me thinking straight. But you don't have to make those sheets of stats or whatever. You already agreed to help me with algebra. You won't have any time for yourself between that and baseball.”

“I don't mind,” Armin said. “I welcome it actually.”

Eren's eyebrows lifted and he smiled at Armin, eyes glittering like emeralds. “Really? All right, if you're okay with it, I am too.”

From across the table, Reiner announced, “I think I'll try that Triple-A Cheeseburger. With extra onions.”

“Extra onions?” Berthold said weakly. “Reiner, I don't want to kiss you if you have onion breath. And brushing your teeth doesn't do anything. I won't be able to kiss you for like two days. Why don't you get extra tomatoes? I like tomatoes.”

“I'm strong enough for a lot of things, but not two whole days without _that_. Tomatoes it is.” He snapped his menu shut and leaned towards Berthold, giving him a light lippy kiss that had Berthold's cheeks flaming, and his whole face smiling, every muscle, every wave of emotion coming from his overly-large body.

“Because tomatoes are so romantic,” Eren said, but he was smiling watching them.

Reiner winked at Eren. “There's a lot of things that can be romantic if you make them.” He put his elbows on the table. “So what are your future baseball plans, my friends? Bert here wants to go pro—and I have no doubt he'll get there too. I'll be his baseball husband. We'll travel the road together. Tomatoes in abundance. Life will be awesome.”

“I'm not sure yet,” Eren said, running a hand through his hair and making it all shaggy and messy like Armin liked it. “Pros sounds fun if I'm good enough. Really, the ideal would be playing with Mikasa and Armin in major league.”

“On the Angels,” Armin said enthusiastically. “They're my team. And I'm hoping to make that literal, too.”

“Who's your favorite player?” Berthold said.

“Glaus,” Armin said. “I watched him my first world series. He got MVP that year too.”

Berthold's jaw dropped. “Did you go to the actual game?”

Armin nodded proudly. “Greatest moment of my life. Well, except for the time both Eren and I got our first home runs in the same game. You gone to any world series?”

“No. My dad doesn't like baseball, and my mom's somewhere halfway across the country or something,” Berthold said sadly. “But Reiner said he was going to get tickets for the series this year, no matter where it is. Graduation gift.”

“That sounds awesome,” Armin said with a happy sigh. “If one of your teams was playing, that would be even cooler. When do tickets go on sale?”

“Dunno, but I'm watching every day,” Reiner said firmly. “As soon as they go on, I'm buying them. I have the money all set aside, untouchable, for this very thing. Nothing's going to stop me from getting those tickets. One day, you two are going to see Bert play in a World Series. And it'll be the best one yet. I already got it figured out.” He held up a hand, as if telling Eren and Armin to hold off whatever they were going to say because what was coming next was just too amazing. “All right, so it's game seven of the series, bottom of the twelfth, seven-six, and his team's down. Berthold comes up to bat, the crowd goes wild, because he's obviously everyone's favorite player. And for once the guy ain't sweating. First pitch is foul. The next three are balls. Two more fouls. There's one guy on second, just itching to run home. But the thing is, there's two outs. The situation seems grim. There's too much pressure. The full counts of full counts. Then that next pitch comes in, some crazy fucking curveball, his weakness you know, but he hits that mother like nothing and it goes past center field and into the parking lot. Bam!” He smacked the table and everyone jumped—Berthold's face was in his hands. “He wins the game, eight-seven, and gets MVP of the season. Not only that, but he gets to go home and wild sex with me.”

“Oh my God, Reiner,” Berthold says into his hands.

“Thanks for that last detail,” Eren said dryly.

But Armin was all over it. The pressure would be enormous, unthinkable, but if that actually happened, the relief, the elation, it would never be equaled. How could anything equal that? It'd go down in the history books. And though it'd never happen to Armin, he couldn't help but picture himself in Berthold's role, no anxious fiber in his body like Annie, with Eren's determination leaking out into the air, and Mikasa's strength in his arms. To rip that ball out of there and be a hero. To inspire future baseball players and fans just like Glaus had inspired Armin. And hopefully Mikasa and Eren would be there. Hopefully they'd always be there.

Eren was elbowing Armin in the side, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Sounds like the kind of thing you're always talking about.”

“Yeah,” Armin said quietly.

Annie came over with a platter of their drinks. “You know what you want to order?”

Armin hadn't looked at the menu at all. He quickly opened it and chose the first thing that sounded remotely delicious. Reiner ordered his Triple-A cheeseburger with extra tomatoes, and Berthold the same. Eren got his steak and mushroom omelet. When Annie got to Armin, he mumbled out, “Home Run Platter.” She gave him this unreadable stare, said okay, and then took their menus.

“Should take like fifteen minutes,” she said and left.

“Oh crap did I order that thing she said not to order?” Armin asked and the whole table nodded their heads.

“It's okay. If it's as nasty as she says, I'll eat it for you and you can have my cheeseburger,” Reiner offered.

“No. I'll live,” Armin said.

“You always say that,” Eren said with an edge. “Just find Annie and tell her you want to change your mind. I will.” He started to get up, but Armin grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

“No really. It's busy. I don't want to make it more stressful for her,” Armin said. “I'm sure it can't be _that_ bad, and if it is, I'm not that hungry anyway.” He put his hands between his legs and gave Eren a tiny smile. “Don't worry about.”

Eren rolled his eyes. “Armin, sometimes you're too . . . I don't know . . . self-sacrificing.”

That stayed with Armin the whole night. Self-sacrificing was good, wasn't it, when it helped his friends? But Eren had said it with this tone that made it seem bad. Armin just wanted to make sure everyone was comfortable and make no waves. That's all he ever tried to do. But it seemed like he was letting Eren down. He watched the boy out of the corner of his eye, how he sipped slowly at his coffee, the way his lips subconsciously went up and down the straw between sips. Well, Armin could try to be less self-sacrificing. He didn't want to disappoint Eren. Or . . . was that was Eren was talking about? Doing things to please other people and not thinking about himself? _Just stop thinking, Armin. You're thinking way too much into it._

On the plus side, when Annie came back with the food, she didn't set a Home Run Platter down in front of him. It was a nice juicy hamburger with Thousand Island Dressing and onion rings and pepperjack. She held the now-empty platter flat against her torso, swished some hair out of her face, and said, “I hope you don't mind, I changed your order. I mean it when I say the Home Run Platter is atrocious.”

“I don't mind at all,” Armin said. “Thanks.”

“If you guys need anything, just call me.”

Reiner held the giant burger in his hand and stared at it like it was the God Adonis himself. “The closest to perfection inanimate objects will ever get.”

“What about animate objects?” Eren asked. They all knew the answer.

“Berthold,” Reiner said and then took a huge bite of the burger. Burger juices smeared across his face, and a piece of tomato hung out of his mouth. He tucked it in with the back of his hand and then took another bite right after he swallowed. Berthold offered him a napkin, but he refused it until he'd taken a third bite and drunk half his iced tea—he forgot that's what Annie ordered him, and he almost spit it back in horror.

The burger Annie had picked out hit the spot for Armin. He took giant bites of it and sometimes even laughed when he saw Eren cringing. Yes, Reiner and Armin were abysmally messy eaters, especially when it came to these burgers—poop of the gods, as Reiner dubbed it much to Eren's enjoyment. Berthold managed to eat the same burger without making a mess at all, and Eren's omelet was sauce free.

“Can I try some?” Armin asked, picking up his fork.

But Eren just used his own fork to cut off a piece and then gave it to Armin. Armin tried not to notice the two pairs of staring eyes from across the table as he took the fork and the omelet, chewing on it to savor the complementary taste of steak and mushrooms with the fluffy egg. He gave it back to Eren.

“I'll have to get that next time I come here,” Armin said and took a long swig of water.

“You wanna try some of this too?” Eren asked, wiggling his coffee as he put his lips around the straw and took too big of a sip. His eyebrows raised and he set it down, hunching over and making weird whining noises.

“Eren?” Armin said in alarm.

He lifted his head again and cried out, “Brain freeze!”

“Put your tongue on the roof of your mouth,” Berthold suggested.

Eren gripped the edge of the table until it passed and then stuck a hot piece of omelet in his mouth to warm it up in there. “The worst things in the world,” he muttered. “The worst.”

“Can I still have a sip of your coffee?” Armin asked. He took it from Eren's extended hand, and took a long sip, brain freeze free. He didn't even really like coffee, but he was in the mood for it. As he drank, his mind wandered back to the image of Eren's lips moving up and down on the straw, and his ears got all hot.

_Thanks you two,_ Armin thought to Reiner and Berthold. Ever since they'd assumed Eren and Armin were a couple, he couldn't get his mind off it. Of thinking about the little things that had happened throughout him and Eren's life in a new light. Like drinking out of the same straw. Eating off the same fork. Always being near each other. Like now. His right arm started tingling at even the thought of contact with Eren and Armin moved closer to the wall.

At the end, everyone chipped in four dollars for a tip, making it sixteen dollars of outrageousness. And then at the last second Armin threw in another five. Annie's eyes about popped out of her head when she saw the twenty-one dollar tip staring up at her from the wooden table. It was worth it. When they left, they had collectively spent a grand total of 73 dollars, and no one regretted a thing.

The four split outside the restaurant. Armin and Eren got into Armin's parent's car—technically, he had gotten his license two months ago, so he wasn't supposed to drive with Eren in the car for another ten months, but what the hell. Eren put his feet up on the dash and turned on some music—the CD that was in the player. It started from the middle of “Five” by Joan Jett.

“This your parent's CD?” he asked.

Armin turned on the blinker and changed lanes before answering. “No, it's mine. I got it a few weeks ago.”

“And you didn't tell me?”

“I didn't know you liked Joan Jett.”

“Who?”

Armin smiled. “She's singing. Famous musician.”

“Oh.”

An idea popped up in his head. Armin turned the music up. “This is going to be your walk-up song.”

“What?” Eren put his feet down. “But I don't even know who she is. I can't have her singing as I walk up to the plate.”

“Too bad. You can't choose. That's the rules,” Armin said smugly. “I think she suits you very well, Eren.”

Eren shrugged in resignation and reclined the seat. “Well, I'm going to come up with one for you. I'll know it when I hear it.”

“Someone might beat you to it,” Armin said.

“If they do I'll destroy them. Whatever song they give you won't be deserving of you. No, I know you enough to find you a worthy song.” He closed his eyes and yawned. “Don't worry. I'll find you one.”

Armin breathed in slowly. “I won't worry. I trust you.” _I trust you the most._


	3. The Bed Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin tries to help Eren with his homework and Jean comes up with a fun weekend plan for the team.

“Substitution is the worst,” Eren muttered, his pencil scribbling lazily across the paper. They were lying on Armin's bed, and Armin was attempting to help Eren with his homework—it had been five days since he offered, and since then they'd had a lesson every day. The textbook for the class was awful at explaining things. Add that to a crappy teacher, and Armin really had his work cut out for him. He had to word everything mathy in a non-math way. It was like talking to someone who only spoke French in a French-English pidgin. 

Eren got an answer and then showed the paper to Armin, who was lying upside down, hair sprawling over the red Angels comforter. Armin held the paper up in the air and skimmed over the work. “No,” he said, pointing to a pat of the sequence, “fifty minus twelve isn't forty-two. And you have to multiply everything in this equation by three. Not just the first number.”

Blowing an annoyed puff of air out his nose, Eren snatched the paper back and erased the whole thing. He started again, nose crinkled in concentration. Armin just watched him, cheek pressed against the bed, and he couldn’t help but smile as he watched Eren scratch furiously across the paper. This was the third attempt on this particular problem, and already there seemed to be more erase marks than actual finished marks. Armin secretly enjoyed Eren's failed attempts, because it just meant they'd stay there longer.

“There, how about that?” Eren asked, setting the paper on Armin's face and smiling.

“Hey!” Armin said, blowing it off. He caught it before it flew off the edge of the bed. “Huh, yeah that's right . . . that's right . . . wait, how'd you get twelve?” Armin quickly did the calculations in his head. “Well, somehow you got A right, but B and C wrong.”

Eren threw the pencil onto the floor and smashed his face into the blankets. “Ah fuck it.”

“No, don't give up, Eren,” Armin said, flipping over onto his stomach. “Look. Hey, look.” Begrudgingly Eren lifted his head and rested his chin on his hands. Armin went into a thorough explanation of how to do it, step-by-step. He usually tried to avoid just giving the answer and telling him exactly what to do, because then Eren didn't learn that way. Not as well as he could have, and should have.

“Let's go play baseball. There's something I _can_ do,” Eren said.

Armin sighed. “You have to pass your math class, Eren.”

“And substitution is important for that? Does it have any real world application? Can I use it to find a substitute for Verman?” Eren asked.

“That's not even a logical comparison. Substitution is the method used to get the actual values of the variables. So unless Verman is a variable and yo--” Armin stopped, distracted by the way Eren was looking at him, trying to hold back an amused smile but failing, eyes dancing, and the sun coming in through the window lit half his face in a way that gave it an even happier glow. “Never mind.”

Eren rolled over onto his back. “Let's go play catch and then come back to math, okay?”

“You're procrastinating,” Armin complained.

“So? All that matters is that I finish it, right?”

“And understand it,” Armin insisted. “Get to number twelve at least and then we can go play catch. I told you I was going to help you understand math, and that's what I'm going to do.” He lay the paper flat on the book they were using as a hard surface and smoothed out the wrinkles with his hand.

Eren groaned but gave in. “Fine. Number twelve. What number are we on now?”

“Five,” Armin said with a little smile.

Eren's cellphone went off, vibrating in his back pocket and playing the Game of Thrones theme song. With a victorious grin, Eren pulled it out and answered with a, “Captain Eren Jaeger Bomb.” A muffled voice talked on the other line, and Eren's eyes flicked from side to side. 

The conversation consisted of mostly Eren saying “Yeah. Uh huh. Yeah. Mmm,” so Armin focused on the paper again. He blew on it this time for the sole purpose of watching it soar into the air and then lightly fall towards the carpet.

Suddenly Eren sat up. “We'll be right there!” He slammed the end button and grabbed Armin's wrist, pulling him off the bed and down the stairs.

“Wait, what's going on?” Armin asked in alarm.

They skidded to a halt by the front door and Eren hurriedly started slipping on his shoes, not even bothering to untie and then tie them again. That was bad for the heel of the shoe, slipping a foot in and out without retying it. He'd done it all his life, and that was why he had gone through so many pairs of shoes.

“Ssh. It's a secret,” Eren said in a vaguely creepy voice. His eyebrows each lifted in quick succession, just to add to said creepiness. 

Since Armin was the one with the license, he had to drive. And so he didn't ruin the surprise, Eren had to give him street-by-street directions. Sometimes he had Armin turning at the last second. “At least give me warning. I almost got rear ended!” Armin complained giving him an annoyed look, but Eren was just smiling pleasantly, so it was hard to stay annoyed for long.

They wound up at a gas station. Armin parked right in front of the doors and turned off the engine, an unimpressed expression on his face. “Don't tell me you came here all the way for a Big Gulp? What's so fun about a gas station?”

“Just wait a minute. We're meeting someone here,” Eren said. “They live farther away so they'll be like five minutes or so. We can just listen to the radio. Turn on the accessory.” But he leaned over and did it himself and turned on the music. Armin watched with a small smile as Eren kept flipping through the channels, getting more and more angry as they only played the same five songs as usual. Eventually he gave up and turned the accessory off.

“There's always Joan Jett,” Armin reminded him.

Eren waved his hand. “Let's just go inside while we wait. A Big Gulp actually sounds really good.” He lifted his butt to pull out his wallet, but it wasn't there. “Fuck, I forgot it at your house.” He turned the most un-puppy dog eyes onto Armin, and in a really pitiful pleading voice, he asked, “Could you pay for me? Sorry. I'll pay you right when we get back.”

No one ever fell for Eren's eyes. Not even Armin. But Armin was the only one who pretended he did, and so he was the only one Eren continued to use them on unless in extreme circumstances. Honestly, he didn't mind paying, even though Eren would probably forget about it once they got back to Armin's house. He rolled his eyes, and in a pretend resigned voice, said, “Fine.”

Of course Eren got his favorite: all the flavors. 

“Suicidal bastard,” Armin said while he watched the orange Fanta gush into his cup.

“If I get a suicide, then no one will ask if they can have a sip,” Eren explained. He snapped the plastic lid on and then picked up a straw. He tore off the top, put it in his mouth, and then aimed at Armin. Next thing Armin knew was the paper hitting his hair and getting caught in it.

In revenge, Armin asked, “Can I have a sip of your drink?” on the way to the register. Now his puppy eyes _did_ work, though he tried not to use them a whole lot. Mostly it came naturally. That's what Eren had told him, at least.

“Are you being serious?” Eren asked, staring at him.

“Yeah. Give me a sip. Please?” Inside, Armin was grinning like an idiot.

Eren slowly handed it over. His eyes, looking as if he was seeing someone stab his dog, watched Armin put the straw in his mouth and take a nice long sip. Armin pretended to enjoy the foul beverage and then lowered the straw, swishing the liquid in his mouth and then swallowing. He even added in a slow lick of his lips to catch any stray drops. When he handed it back to Eren who now had an unreadable expression, though his mouth was shaped into an O.

“Thanks,” Armin said cheerfully.

As he paid, the bell rung on the front door: Mikasa. She walked right over to them. Her hair had grown long enough to put into the tiniest ponytail at the nap of her neck. Before she said one word, Eren handed her his drink and told her she could have a sip. It was like now that Armin had had a sip, everyone had to have one. He watched with the same sad expression. _What a drama queen,_ Armin thought. Like he'd been for his whole life.

“You want one?” Armin asked Mikasa but she shook her head.

They walked outside and sat on the back of Armin's car, watching other cars pass on the road, seeing if they knew anyone who went by.

“So why are we here?” Armin asked after a couple of minutes. “Are you the one that called Eren, Mikasa?”

Mikasa shook her head. “No, Jean called me.”

Armin blinked. “That's random. Is that who called you, Eren?”

“Pff, no. I wouldn't have answered. It was Marco,” Eren said.

“Oh that makes sense. Jean probably knew you wouldn't answer. Or.” He chuckled. “He probably didn't want to you call either.”

Eren breathed in and out in satisfaction.

The gas station radio started playing “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?” by Creedence Clearwater Revival. They didn't realize they were all bouncing their feet against the car in rhythm with the song until someone walked up and said, “You guys practicing to be in a band or something?” It was Jean, walking up with Marco. Armin and Eren took a sip of their drinks at the same time and just looked at them.

“Hey I love this song,” Marco said. He started moving his body in a weird side to side motion, head bouncing, along with the song.

Jean bit down on his lip and tried to focus on the trio on the car. “Is nobody else here? Just you three?”

“Did you call everyone?” Armin asked.

“Yeah, didn't Eren tell you?” Jean asked. He gave Eren a dry look.

“Is there actually a surprise?” Armin asked.

Eren took a long sip of his drink. “No. I was just messing with you. So we'd get here fast. So you didn't think about trying to bring the homework along or whatever.”

“Oh, you're helping Eren with homework?” Marco piped in, still swaying his hips. “For what class? If it's biology, I can help. I like biology. Cells and stuff.”

“Yes, cells and stuff. You do sound like you're knowledgeable in biology, Marco,” Jean said. Marco just poked him in the arm, and then for some reason Jean started dancing with him, doing the classic hip-bump of people who didn't want to dance but did.

Armin looked at Eren who was staring off at nothing. “Uh, it's just math. You know, math's evil and all,” he said quietly. He didn't want to make Eren uncomfortable by explaining his weakness in math. Not when Eren wanted to appear to be the perfect shining light to everyone around him. Especially Jean. Those two had started a dumb rivalry and everybody rolled their eyes whenever they went at it.

Luckily a rusty old boat—pick-up truck—appeared blasting music, with people cheering and singing along in loud voices, and everyone was distracted. Reiner was at the wheel, with Ymir in the passenger seat—Krista on her lap—and Berthold squished between them. He had to duck his head because the roof of the cab wasn't tall enough. Illegally in the back _stood_ Connie, Sasha, Franz, and Hannah.

The truck parked right next to Armin's car and it burped unpleasantly just before Reiner killed the engine. They all jumped out, Sasha and Connie with the most enthusiasm. Connie almost crashed into Armin's car, but Sasha managed to grab his arm and pull him out onto clear pavement. The Hoover half-siblings stood next to each by the hood of the car, Ymir smiling dangerously—she probably didn't mean for it to be dangerous, she was just naturally like that. Like Levi's natural resting bitch face.

“So we gonna do this?” Reiner asked, folding his arms and grinning.

“Do what?” Armin exclaimed, because everyone seemed to be in the loop but him.

“Hold on,” Jean said. “We still got Annie and Mina and the other people to come.”

Ymir's smile curled into a confused frown. “What the hell are you two doing?” She was referring to Jean and Marco and their quite enthusiastic dancing.

Jean gave her an icy look and then he got more into it, which prompted Marco to do the same until they were literally dancing around in circles and moving their hands all crazy in the air. They were trying to be cool and desperately failing, but they looked adorable trying. In fact, the others looked quite pleased with this turn of events, as if some part of an evil plan had come to fruition.

Another car drove up on Armin's other side bearing Annie and Mina. The two of them leaned against the passenger side of the car. “Sorry we're late,” Mina said. She glanced at Annie. “There was a little, er, kerfuffle down the street.”

“So what are we doing?” Armin asked, hands flying in the air too enthusiastically. The lid of his drink popped off and the sticky soda flew all over Eren. 

For a moment, Eren just sat there, hunched over a bit, drink in hand, staring at the tip of the straw. And then his head swiveled towards a blushing Armin. The blonde knew what was coming next, and so did everybody else when they saw Eren pull the lid off his own drink and raise it up. In one clean stream, the soda dumped on top of Armin's head.

But the two smiled at each other.

Reiner leaned over to Berthold and whispered something in his ear. Berthold smiled happily and Ymir, who must have caught it, started laughing quietly.

“But really,” Armin said when he had finally forced himself to look away from Eren. “What are we doing?” He looked at Reiner.

But the blondie shook his head. “Jean's the mastermind.”

Everyone looked at Jean who finally had to stop dancing. He tugged on Marco's sleeve, and Freckles stopped, leaning an arm on Jean's shoulder. “All right, so. We've all known each other for like a week, right? I feel like we should celebrate not having killed each other, and the fact that all of us are on this team. Those who wanted to drop off did. But we're all solid. And tomorrow's Mikasa's birthday—I'm not creepy, it's on the calendar along with everybody else's birthdays,” he added when Connie started making, “Oh ho ho”s. “So this is what we're going to do. We are going to drive to the beach and rest of today and tomorrow we're going to play beach baseball. And before you all complain about money, don't worry.” He slapped a hand on Marco's chest. “Freckles has got us all covered thanks to his wealthy father.”

“He's not _wealthy_ ,” Marco said.

“Compared to all of us, he is. He's a rich son of a bitch who also happens to love baseball, and even though he's not the fondest of me, and I asked him about it, he accepted because apparently you turd nuggets he _is_ fond of, so yeah, there's that uplifting story. Go ask your parents or whatever. If you can go, meet back here. We leave in one hour,” Jean said.

“An hour? Wow, Kirschtein,” Ymir said. “Way to give us proper time to pack and do all the normal shit that people need to do before they go off on a trip.”

“It takes you an hour to shit?” Jean asked.

“I'll shit for an hour on everything you love, Kirschtein,” Ymir shot back in a low, syrupy voice. “And I'll enjoy every minute my bowels are freer and freer. And,” she said, smiling, “the way you'll be crying when you see it all. When you smell it all.”

Berthold turned his head and gave Ymir a wide-eyed look.

Jean just looked horrified.

Someone had to jump in an save everyone from the image of Ymir shitting everywhere—Marco got in there in Armin's mind and he tried desperately to get rid of it but it stayed there, even though it hovered in the back. Only time would erase that. Even then . . .

“Clock's ticking boys and girls. Let's go!” Reiner said, slapping his hands on the side of the truck and then hopping back in.

“Did you walk here?” Eren asked Mikasa as they slid off the back of the car.

“Yeah,” she said.

“You can go right? Your mom isn't planning some huge party?” Armin asked. It wouldn't be right going without Mikasa. It was her birthday, and since they'd all known each other, they hadn't missed one another's birthdays. They weren't going to start now for the sake of baseball. There were few things Armin loved more than baseball, but Mikasa was one of them. If she stayed, he stayed. If anyone of them were told no by their parents, then all of them would stay.

“She told me we'd celebrate with the family whenever I wanted,” Mikasa said. “I can do that later. If you two are going with the team, then so am I.”

“My mom's pretty cool when it comes to these things,” Eren said. “But she'll probably want an adult, and I don't think she'll count Reiner and Berthold.” He looked at Mikasa. “One day I am going to come to your family dinner. Sit at the table with Levi. That'll be weird.”

“It's not weird,” Mikasa mumbled.

“Only because you've had family dinner with him for years. He was untouchable for me and now he's our coach. God. I can't even imagine. Does Hanji go too?” Eren said, drifting off into thoughts of awkward family dinners where Eren bugged the fuck out of Levi until Levi said something far too colorful for a table with children.

“Hey losers!” Jean called. “Get going or you won't have time to pack and we'll leave you behind.” He was all the way over on the sidewalk by the road, an arm slung around Marco's shoulder. “Mikasa, you wanna walk with us?”

Eren's eyes narrowed. “I think he likes you too much.”

“Or he's just being nice,” Armin pointed out. “Anyway, I think he's got a thing for Marco.”

“You've been talking with Berthold and Reiner haven't you?” Eren said, looking at Armin out of the corner of his eye. “They're best friends. That doesn't mean they want each other's dicks.”

“Who says best friends can't want each other's dicks?” Mikasa said.

Both of them stared at her—mostly because they had literally never heard her say the word dick before, but also because, at least on Armin's part, she was right. Being best friends just meant they were friends. Spouses were friends. Lovers could be friends as well. Being a friend just meant you did weird things with them, like paint peanut butter all over your body and then have a pillow fight—not that Armin and Eren had done that before. Not at all.

“Hello?” Jean called.

Mikasa raised a hand, motioning for them to wait one second. “If either of you can't go, text me.” She smiled and then took her sweet time in walking over to Marco and Jean. Jean slung an arm around her shoulder but she shrugged it off.

In the car, Eren was quiet. Staring out the window dramatically like in the movies. He actually did that a lot. Quite a lot.

Armin tapped his hands on the wheel. “We're bringing your homework if we can go.”

“What?!”

“Well we're not going to get to problem twelve in an hour, let alone the whole assignment. And I know you're not going to do it tomorrow once we get back—if we can go, that is—because you'll say you're too tired to and then I'll end up doing it,” Armin said.

“Hey, you'd do that?” Eren said, ignoring everything but that last part. “You'd finish it?”

Armin tapped his fingers again. “Not if you're suddenly going to take advantage of it.”

Eren slunk down in his seat, the seat belt up over his belly button. “Why does math have to exist? I hate it.” Then he made a gargle of incoherent noises.

“If math didn't exist then neither would you. The universe wouldn't,” Armin pointed out.

“Thank you, Bill Nye,” Eren said.

“Thank _you_. I never thought I'd have the honor of being compared to him.” Armin smiled.

They pulled up in the driveway. Armin turned off the engine. Together they tiptoed into the house and into the great room where the Arlerts were watching marathoning Orange is the New Black. At the moment some red-haired chick that played a captain in Star Trek was talking about powerful chickens or something. Armin had never watched it, so he wasn't sure. He'd thought about, but he was positive every time a sex scene came up, his parents would show up because that _always_ happened.

Mrs. Arlert paused the show and smiled at Armin and Eren. Then she saw the dried soda all over their clothes and hair. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Don't worry, none if it got in the car,” Armin promised hastily.

She smiled. “Okay. Do you need something, honey?”

Armin's ears got pink like they did every time his mom called him pet names when someone else was around. Eren was used to it, but it was still embarrassing. “The rest of the team—well part of the team—is heading out to the beach for tonight and tomorrow. Marco's dad is paying for everything, so you don't have to worry about that. But I was just wondering if I could go . . .” He put his hand on the back of his neck nervously.

The parentals looked at each other, having a little conversation with different facial expressions. They had their own language. Armin still hadn't decrypted it. But they smiled when they looked back and he knew that. “Sure. But you can only take the car if you promise to drive responsibly, okay? We don't have the money right now for any problems.”

“When don't I drive responsibly?” Armin protested.

“Yeah,” Eren piped up. “It's not like I'm going to be driving. And I'm not distracting at all. And Mikasa will be there too.”

“Oh Mikasa is going too?” Mrs. Arlert said happily, visibly more relaxed. “Is one of the coaches?”

“Um . . .” Eren looked at Armin.

“No?” Armin tried. “Reiner and Berthold and Ymir will be and they're all 18.”

Mrs. Arlert made an uncertain face. “Do you trust them?”

Armin nodded.

Another facial conversation took place. Finally they agreed again. “Okay. Make sure you text us when you get to wherever you're staying.”

“Will do,” Armin said with a salute.

Now it was Eren's turn. But he couldn't just call his mom on the phone. Armin packed up his stuff hurriedly—double checking to make sure he had Eren's math textbook and homework—just in case they could actually go, and then they drove over to the Jaeger household. Grisha didn't much have an opinion on these things, so they consulted Carla who was loading the dishwasher. They stood on the other side of the counter, Eren leaning forward on his elbows, trying the puppy dog technique again. If there was anyone they worked the least on, it was Carla.

“Hey, Mom?” Eren asked, drawing out the word “mom.”

She looked up and immediately knew he was about to ask something she would potentially dislike. “Yes?” she said in the same drawn out way. Armin loved listening to them talk. He never knew how the conversation would turn out.

Eren made a popping sound with his lips. “So the team is going on a little adventure. You know, like a Bilbo Baggins-Thorin Oakenshield adventure.”

“You'll be going to kill a dragon?” Carla asked in amusement, picking up a rinsed off dish and setting it in the washer.

“Maybe,” Eren said firmly. “Maybe we are, Mom. Or maybe we're going to play baseball with some goblins. I don't know. It's an adventure. Anything could happen.” Instantly his face screwed up because that had come out wrong. It sounded like they could all potentially land themselves in a very bad situation—bad as in, one parents would not approve of, but isn't exactly _bad_ in other people's eyes.

Carla glanced at Armin before she nodded her head and said slowly, “Anything doesn't involve having to use protection, right?”

Eren's whole face turned a nasty shade of red and he looked like he wanted to crawl up in a hole and die. “Mom,” he said, his voice barely audible. “No. Nooooo.”

“Just making sure,” she said with a smile. “Where's this adventure going to take place?”

“The beach.”

“The beach? There's lots of beaches in the world,” Carla said. “Which one?”

Eren glanced at Armin. “A good one?”

Carla dried her hands on a towel and leaned on the counter in the same way as Eren. “With who in the team exactly?”

“Various people in the team.”

“Any adults?”

“Yeah.”

“Who?”

“Uh, Reiner, Berthold, and Ymir,” Eren said after some hesitation.

Carla stared.

“Come on, Mom,” Eren said, arms slapping down on to the counter, stretched out. “Please? If I don't I'll become an outsider. My baseball stats will get worse. I'll be ostracized in society. They'll look at me and think, 'That's the boy who couldn't go to the beach. The boy who missed out on so many great things. Who was asked by Gandalf the Grey to go on a glorious adventure and had to say “No, my Mom said I couldn't because it's in the hands of mere immature mortals like Reiner, Berthold, and Ymir.”'”

Armin blinked.

Carla took his hands and locked her fingers with him, holding them between them. “When you put it that way . . .”

Eren's eyes got huge. “I can go?”

“Yes,” she said. “Of course. Just don't do anything irrational.”

“Eren? Not do anything irrational?” Armin said.

“You're not helping my case!” Eren complained.

Carla pulled away and continued with the loading of the dishwasher. “How much money do you need?”

“None. Well, except for gas. Marco's dad's paying for the whole thing,” Eren said excitedly.

Carla glanced behind them at the door to Grisha's office. “Go ask your father for some gas money.”

He was suspicious, but eventually they convinced Grisha that they were actually telling the truth, and he gave them a crisp 100 dollar bill. Eren packed, throwing everything in—Armin wanted to fix it so nothing would get wrinkled, but Eren didn't care. They texted Mikasa to meet them at the gas station again, and then hit the pavement, blasting Joan Jett over the speakers—Eren trying to sing along even though he had no idea what the words were, and Armin mostly laughing because his made-up lyrics were ludicrous.

They got there with twenty minutes to spare. Already Annie and Mina were there, eating Snickers bars and talking about something in their car. When Armin and Eren pulled up, Armin waved and Annie waved back. Mikasa showed up a few minutes later with her backpack. She threw it in the trunk with the other bags and then gave them a look. “You guys didn't shower?”

“We don't have time to shower, Mikasa,” Eren insisted. “If you want to join in this new fashion trend, I can go buy you a soda. I got my money now.” And yet, even saying that, he didn't remember owing Armin a dollar seventy two. But Armin didn't say anything. If he kept track of all the money Eren owed him, it'd probably be in the high hundreds, and that wasn't an exaggeration.

_Just means I have leverage when I need a favor from him in the future,_ Armin thought. _Shit, that sounded creepier than I meant._

Everybody but Franz and Hannah showed up. They had texted Jean saying Franz' dad wouldn't let him go because that would mean partying on the Sabbath and God forbid that—literally. So Hannah was staying behind too, naturally, because they were a package deal. Just like Armin, Eren, and Mikasa.

“Who's riding with who?” Reiner asked. “I can't take Sasha and Connie and Krista on a long drive.”

“Whoa, hold up there,” Ymir said. “Krista is riding with us. We'll just kick you out.”

“What?” Reiner complained. “It's my truck. If you don't want to ride in it, ride with the others. But nothing is separating me from my boys.”

Ymir narrowed her eyes. “Fine. We'll go with Mina and Annie.” She looked over at Annie who just shrugged. “Let's go Krista. The truck's for losers anyway.”

“I guess that means Jean is perfect to ride in there,” Eren said.

Marco lightly took Jean's arm to keep him from advancing on Eren.

In the end, after quite a bit of pointless arguing, Connie went with Reiner and Berthold, Sasha with the ladies, and Jean and Marco with Armin, Eren, and Mikasa. Jean chose the seat behind Eren so he could periodically knee the back of the chair—that's what he wanted to do anyway. After the second time, Marco told him to stop so he did. Armin glanced back at them all to make sure they were strapped in—noticing how Jean and Marco's knees were touching and thought, _I'm jumping on the ship, aren't I?_.

Jean texted the address to everyone to put in their GPSes and then they were all off, Reiner in the lead, with Armin in the middle, and Annie bringing up the rear.

“So what's your guys' songs?” Armin asked when they got on the freeway.

“'I Don't Care,'” Jean said.

“So you don't actually care if I think something stupid about you, because at least I'm thinking about you?” Eren said. “You just want me thinking about you, Jean?” He twisted in his seat and gave Jean a sappy look through the hole in the head rest.

“Shut up, Jaeger,” Jean snorted.

“What's yours Marco?” Armin asked.

Marco smiled. “'East Jesus Nowhere.' Jean chose it for me.”

For some reason that made Jean go pink and grumble. He focused on crossing his legs in the small space and finally got it. It looked very uncomfortable.

“I don't know that song,” Armin said.

But that didn't bother Marco. “It's an intense song. I'm not sure why he chose it. He won't tell me.” He elbowed Jean in the arm. “Everyone has a song but you, Armin.”

“Yeah,” Armin said quietly.

“Armin needs to have the best song of all,” Eren said. “It can't just be any thing you'd give to the common rabble.”

Armin scrunched his nose. _Eren's really taking the whole song thing way seriously._ “It's just a song, Eren.”

Eren looked livid. “It's not just a _song_ Armin. Nothing's just _anything_ when it comes to you.” And then suddenly getting embarrassed, he added quickly, “Or when it comes to Mikasa. You know, you two gotta have the best, because you are the best.” He smiled.

“Enough with the sappy stuff,” Jean said. “Turn on the radio.”

They caught the very beginning of “Highway to Hell.” Every single one of them knew the lyrics, and when the chorus came on, they all belted it out, Marco with the most oomph—he had his eyes closed, head thrown back, just ripping those lyrics out. 

–

The motel was a mile from Huntington Beach. They got three rooms for the night, because that's all Marco's dad allotted them. Reiner, Berthold, Jean, and Marco all got a room together—for some reason that made Ymir snicker but Armin wasn't sure why. Ymir, Krista, Annie and Mina got a room. Mikasa was used to sharing rooms with her boys on trips, so they thought nothing of it. She'd get her own bed anyway. They all split up, with the plan to get up at seven to head to the beach. That's when Eren realized.

“Shit, I forgot my swim trunks!” he said.

“You brought your mitt at least, right?” Armin said.

“Just go naked,” Mikasa said.

Eren gave her a shocked look. “Did you just say that? That wasn't Jean or anyone?”

But she just shrugged and jumped on her bed, opening a book she'd brought along. She kicked her shoes off, letting them fall to the ground. Her toes spread out in a stretch. Defenseless. Just ready for an attack. Eren pounced on the bed, his arms wrapping around her legs and his fingers attacking the bottom of her feet in a tickle attack. Mikasa's weakness was tickling. She tried to break free of Eren, laughing raucously because she had no control of her vocal chords when it came to tickle wars.

Armin decided to join her side. He jumped on the bed too and struck Eren's sides. His body curved up to get away, but Armin followed. Finally Eren had to let go and when he did, Mikasa slipped her legs out from under him and joined Armin in the assault.

Someone knocked on the door, and they broke apart. Jean walked in, looking slightly alarmed. When he saw them his eyes widened. “Oh sorry was I--”

Eren fell off the bed. He popped up a second later, “NO.”

“I just thought you were getting murdered. But please, continue your . . . fun.”

“It was a tickle war you pervert!” Eren said angrily.

“Someone say tickle war?” came Reiner's voice from outside.

“Shit, no, Reiner. We all know how your tickle wars end up,” Ymir said.

Jean stared at them and then closed the door.

“Wait, how'd he get in?” Eren asked. “Does he have a key to our room?”

“I have a key to their rooms too,” Armin said, nodding to where it lay on the dresser the television was on. “In case people are getting murdered or whatever.” He fixed his hair and then jumped off the bed. “I should probably take a shower.”

“Did you lock the car?” Eren asked.

“Yeah. I think so. I mean . . . wait did I? Yeah I did. But . . .” And then Armin got paranoid and he went out to lock it again. When he went back in, Eren was in the shower.

Mikasa was reading again. When Armin came in and realized what Eren had done, she looked at him over the top of the book, “I was going to tell you before he got in, but then I didn't want to move.”

Armin shrugged. He wandered over to the coffee machine. Motel coffee wasn't great, but it was super delicious somehow. He put the coffee and water in and then turned the machine on. Eren and Mikasa didn't like coffee, so it was all his. It finished when the shower turned off. He brought it over onto the bed and set it between his Indian-crossed legs carefully. Then he turned on the television to some show called Carnosaur 3: Primal Species. Two minutes of watching, and he was already saying, “This is terrible.”

The bathroom door opened and a whole cloud of steam came out, followed by Eren, wrapped in a white towel, and using a smaller towel to ruffle and dry his hair. As he walked over to the bed, he said, “We could go to the store and get some swim trunks before we go to the beach.”

“I don't know. I think Mikasa's idea would be the cheapest way,” Armin said. “With the best benefits. Uh, for the ladies at the beach, that is. Or guys, too. For the people at the beach.”

“I'm not going naked!” Eren said, throwing the small towel at Armin.

Mikasa lowered her book for a second. “It wouldn't be the first time, Eren. Remember Sixth Grade Day when your trunks slid off when you dove into that pool and then that guy stole them and ran into the locker rooms?”

“Thank you for that, Mikasa. I really appreciate it. Just what I needed to remember,” Eren said dryly.

“Second time's always easier,” Armin said.

Eren fell back onto the bed. “Thanks for nothing, you guys. Really. Is this just your way of telling me you want to see me naked?”

Mikasa snorted, but Armin wasn't nearly as graceful. His face got all red and he gave an awkward laugh. When the other two looked at him, he pointed to the television. “This movie is terrible.” When they finally looked away—Eren at the movie, because he loved bad movies—Armin shook his head, cursing himself. _Very cool, Armin. Very cool. Now he thinks you're a creepy pervert or something._ His eyes strayed to Eren's towel and then he looked up at the ceiling quickly. _What a nice ceiling. The ceiling makers are very talented people. So talented. Oh God, what's wrong with me._

“We should work on homework, so we don't have to worry about it tomorrow. It's only seven,” Armin suggested.

A loud groan escaped Eren's mouth. “No. Armin I thought you were anti-torture. That you wanted to close Gitmo or whatever the fuck that place is called.”

“What does homework have to do with Gitmo?” Armin asked.

“Everything.” Eren sat up. “I'm still taking a shower.” He pointed to his towel. “Got stuff to do getting ready.”

“You said today you would get to problem twelve, so we are getting to problem twelve,” Armin said. He smiled. “Or we can get up early tomorrow and do it then.”

“I'm not waking up earlier tomorrow than we already are. Six-fifty is already a crime,” Eren said. “It's Mikasa's birthday. If I do homework now, I won't go to bed until like one and I'll sleep terribly and then I'll be grumpy tomorrow and ruin her birthday.”

“Grumpier than you usually are?” Mikasa asked.

“Fine,” he growled. “Let me get dressed first. No telling what you dirty fucks will do.” He got up and went back into the bathroom. Forgetting his clothes. They watched as he came back out disgracefully and grabbed them from the wrinkled mess in his bag, and go back into the bathroom.

Armin got the textbook out and opened it to where he'd stuck the paper in. They only had seven more problems to do tonight. That was easily done. Especially since the last three were just graphing. Eren was better at graphing than anything. They lay on their stomachs, side-by-side, occasionally looking up at Carnosaur 3 for inspiration. Eren's hair dripped on to the paper. Verman would probably mistake them for tear drops. But they got through those seven more problems, and all without Armin having to do with the full play-by-play explanation and giving Eren the answer. They finished just in time to watch the last five minutes of the movie.

“I should add that to my top ten favorite movies list,” Eren said to himself.

Armin chuckled, so Eren curled an arm around his neck and then used his free hand to ruffle his hair. “Dude, go take a shower. You're nasty.”

In the shower, and yes Armin acknowledged the relation of this thought with his other thoughts, his mind strayed to how close they'd been lying on the bed doing homework, and also earlier that day when Eren's face had looked particularly angelic, and also thinking about how Eren had been naked in this shower not longer before. It had taken one little thing, and now Armin's mind was running rampant, but no matter how much he tried to control it, the beast always won. Now that he had thought about it properly, Eren was a good looking guy. There was no going back.

By the time he got out—a twenty minute shower, five minutes which had been spent actually cleaning himself—the others were already curled up in bed. The lights were off. Armin got out as much moisture from his hair as he could. He slipped on his pajama shorts and then walked over to the bed. He and Eren had shared a bed many times on trips. This was no different, and yet Armin couldn't help but feel all tingly as he got in the sheets next to him—Eren was already knocked out, on his stomach, drooling all over his pillow. He lay on his side so he could just stare at Eren for awhile, a little smile on his face, until he realized that was probably creepy as fuck so he turned around, his back to Eren and closed his eyes.

Luckily, he didn't dream about a naked Eren. Instead he dreamed about naked a Jean who got a kick out of pissing in the ocean until Marco showed up and—Armin forced himself awake before anything could happen. He looked at the clock on the nightstand; it read 1:28. But his body didn't want to fall back asleep for fear of what it would find.

He turned over on his back. Then on his side. On his back again.

Finally he slipped out, put a shirt on and his shoes, stuck his Wings of Freedom hat on his head, grabbed his mitt and a ball and went outside into the cool night air. He walked across the parking lot to a little grassy strip with little trees, sat down, and started throwing the ball up in the air and catching it in his mitt. _I could get murdered out here,_ he thought. And of course, just then, he heard footsteps and saw a figure walking towards him. _I'm getting murdered tonight._ He got the ball ready to throw at the stranger's head.

But then he recognized the silhouette and it was Eren. He lowered his hand.

“What are you doing out here?” Eren asked, dropping down beside him.

“Running away from my dreams,” Armin said.

Eren grinned. “Yeah? What are they?”

Armin shuddered. “You don't want to know.” He started throwing the ball in the air again. It went up and down a few times, and then Eren reached out and grabbed it before it could land in Armin's mitt.

“Is this your signed ball?” Eren asked. “By that Glaus guy?”

“Yeah,” Armin said.

Eren tossed it back. “It smells nicer here. Must be because the ocean's so close.”

Armin put the ball in the mitt and set them both on the ground next to him. He brought his knees up to his chest and then wrapped his arms around them, hands clasping together in the middle. “It's Mikasa's birthday. Now you're the only one who's fifteen.”

“March birthdays are the best,” Eren said.

“November birthdays are,” Armin said. “It has Thanksgiving. Lots of food.”

“I thought you didn't like Thanksgiving because of the whole history with it,” Eren said.

“I don't. But you like it,” Armin said. “I'm trying to come up with reasons to convince you that November is better than March. I have plenty more if you care to hear them. But Thanksgiving is the most important one.”

“My mom makes the best stuffing,” Eren said. “Mmm. That sounds good right now. But anyway, March is the best. We got Pi Day, uh huh, lots more pie than Thanksgiving. We got St. Patrick's Day where you get to wear the best color. We got the last day of fucking winter. Though, in So Cal it doesn't matter as much as the rest of the country.”

“You're supposed to be building your case,” Armin said.

Eren's mouth stretched into a huge smile, his soft eyes glowing in the moonlight. “You've known me long enough to know I suck at it. You gonna go back in? We have to wake up in like four and a half hours. Well, four and a half for you. Five and a half for me.”

He wasn't really tired anymore, not after sitting out here. And it was nicer now that Eren was here. But Eren was the one who needed the most sleep out of everyone. If Armin went in, he would too. If Armin stayed out, so would Eren. It was kind of stupid, but that's how it was. How it had always been, really. Like he'd thought before, package deal and all that. Mikasa probably heard them leave because she was a light sleeper, but like _she'd_ said earlier, she didn't want to move.

“Do you think I can get away with sleeping out here without cops coming over and thinking I'm doing something illegal?” Armin queried.

“I'm not going to let you sleep out here,” Eren said. He pulled Armin's hat off and put it on his own head. “You got a baseball game to play tomorrow. There's probably spiders out here, anyway. They'll crawl inside your ears and control your brain.”

Armin blinked. “No, that's only those Ceti Alpha worms from _Wrath of Khan_.”

“One day you'll skip the correction and just go with whatever I say,” Eren said.

“I don't think so,” Armin said honestly.

Eren took Armin's hand and pulled him up. “The bed calls. Wow, that came out wrong. Sleep calls.” When Armin started laughing, Eren pulled him after him. “You know what I meant!”

They got back in bed, and it didn't take Eren long to fall right back to sleep. And steal all the covers. Armin got on his side, facing Eren, and this time let himself fall asleep that way. And he didn't dream of naked pissing Jeans. Or of Eren. But what mattered was the lack of _naked pissing Jeans_. Instead he dreamed about playing on the Angels and completing a double play that won his team the World Series.


	4. Mikasa's Beach Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're at the beach for the whole day, and Armin discovers a new ally. Kind of. There's chocolate bananas and Never Have I Ever and losers.

Mikasa woke up before any of them. When Armin's alarm went off he found her sitting on the edge of her bed watching some terrible talk show with a confused expression on her face. Behind her she had laid out a brand new pair of swim trunks—green of course. Well at least Eren wouldn't have to go out naked or face embarrassment in boxers. Armin rolled out of bed, trudged over to the sink to brush his teeth. He searched for the hair brush, but it had mysteriously disappeared. “Hey, Mikasa?” he asked and gave a huge yawn. “Do you know where the brush is?”

From her lap she waved the brush and then set it back down, eyes never leaving the television.

Armin slipped on his swim trunks, put on a white shirt, and then sat on the bed next to her. Nothing needed to be said for him to turn around, sit Indian style, his back to her. Three seconds later Mikasa was dragging the brush through his hair and it felt amazing. Everyone had this odd fascination with Armin's hair, and Mikasa was probably its number one fan. Every time they went on trips together, she always insisted on brushing it. Usually Eren had a look in his eye like he wanted to but was too embarrassed to ask. When Mikasa wanted to be gentle, no one could top her. And she and Armin's hair had a special relationship.

By the time Eren woke up, drool moistening his pillow and smearing across his face when he sat up—hair remarkably disheveled—everyone was already ready. Mikasa and Armin had optioned to stay behind while everyone partook of the sacred Continental Breakfast sacrament so Eren didn't feel left out.

“Are those . . . swim trunks?” Eren asked breathlessly, picking them up and holding them in the air. “Mikasa it's your birthday. You're not supposed to buy gifts for people.”

“I can buy gifts for people whenever I want,” Mikasa said.

Eren hastily changed in the bathroom and when he came out, made a show of it, sliding over what little tile there was over there and holding his hands in the air. When the others gave him the most unimpressed looks, he rolled his eyes and tried to swagger over to his bed. “You guys just don't understand. It's hard to identify with hot people, I know--”

Then Mikasa gave the loudest snort of the millennium, took Armin's hand, and pulled him out. Eren followed them to the Continental Breakfast, blabbing on about how he was just kidding and “God, you guys need to be able to take a joke, okay? But you do have to admit, I'm not that bad looking, right?”

“Why don't you ask Jean?” Mikasa said just as they walked in.

Jean looked over. “Ask me what?”

Eren's face turned a shameful shade of red-violet and Armin and Mikasa snickered.

“Nice swim trunks, Eren,” Marco complimented with a cheery smile.

The color dissipated and Eren smiled, suddenly uplifted. “Thanks!”

Reiner appeared from nowhere, swiping Mikasa's hand and kissing it gently. “Happy birthday, my lady.”

“Thanks,” she said and walked over to the Fruit Loops dispenser.

“So what's the plan for today?” Connie asked, mouth full of those nasty greasy sausage and pseudo-eggs.

“All day at the beach, bitches,” Ymir said, putting her feet up on the table and looking at him over the top of her sunglasses. “The real question is: who against who? I call dibs on team leader. And I pick Krista.”

Connie scowled. “That's not the way it works. Well if you're a team captain, I'm the other one, and I pick Sasha.” He poked the brunette in the arm while she was midway through downing a fat buttery roll. She almost started choking, but if there was one death surely impossible when it came to Sasha, it was choking. With expert ease, she cleared her throat and then swallowed properly.

They all decided teams right then and there, and there was a lot of talking with full mouths, and misheard words, usually followed by Reiner saying loudly—and scaring some other people in the breakfast room— “Oh my God, I thought you said .” To finally save them all—except Ymir who laughed hysterically at it all because she was the next dirty person in the room—Berthold grabbed a roll and stuffed it in Reiner's big open mouth.

In the end the teams stood as such:

**Team Freckles**

Ymir  
Krista  
Marco  
Jean  
Mikasa  
Mina  
Annie

**Team Potatoes**

Connie  
Sasha  
Reiner  
Berthold  
Armin  
Eren

With Reiner and Berthold being on one team, the odd numbered extra player was granted to Team Freckles.

They arrived at the beach in full glory, Wings of Freedom gleaming proudly on their caps, bats or mitts over their shoulders. People moved out the way, clearing the perfect space for the baseball players. Some even positioned their towels so they could face them and watch the game. Jean dramatically took off his shades and threw his head, hair swaying, and he scowled when Connie and Sasha started laughing at him.

Now that they were there, Armin contemplated playing wiffle ball in the sand. It was going to be intense, to be sure, especially sliding to the bases. The diamond was laid out with home base facing the ocean. The outfielder positions were scrapped: Sasha took first, and Connie shortstop on Potatoes; Mikasa became second baseman, with Mina on third.

Eren swiped Armin's cap off and put it on backwards. His arm swung around Armin's shoulders and Armin had to force himself from leaning into Eren. The brunette grinned wildly. “Beach baseball. Wouldn't have it any other way. Let's kick some trash, Armin.”

“I don't know,” Armin said critically. “They have Mikasa and Annie. And even with Reiner and Berthold's experience on our team, those two are naturals and ruthless. I mean, Berthold can get distracted easily and worries a lot about how everyone's doing. Annie and Mikasa are good at focusing, more than anyone else, I'd say. I mean, I haven't been watching everyone for long, so I wouldn't really know but . . .” His face got pink.

“No, no. It's good to know the other team's strengths and weaknesses,” Eren said, eying the opposition with narrowed eyes.

Armin looked at each member as he gave Eren his evaluation. “Ymir is good at intimidation. Only players who handle pressure well can get a good hit off of her—or a hit at all. She has a pattern of what kind of pitches she throws depending on the situation—it rarely varies. I could make a whole chart with that. The coaches have probably already told her, or she knows consciously on her own, but since she's so good, she doesn't really change it up. It'll get her one day when we come across highly offensive and fearless teams.” He folded one arm across his chest and his other hand rested under his chin.

By the second out of the top of the first inning, Freckles already had three runs. First Marco hit a single to right. Then Mikasa got a double, batting Marco in. Berthold got two outs after that on Jean and Annie, and then Krista hit what should have been the third out, but Sasha had to chase Connie's wild throw, letting Krista make it all the way to home. Reiner called out some encouragements to Connie and Berthold, and the Potatoes managed to end their half of the inning.

Jean shut everyone but Reiner down, who got a home run by hitting the wiffle ball all the way to the water. The Potatoes all watched sadly while Mikasa went after the ball—having to negotiate with a little girl to get the ball back. Armin went up to bat next, staring at Jean and thanking God Ymir wasn't pitching. His eyes followed the ball all the way, and he swung, missing by a mile. Jean wiggled in victory and then nodded his head to Krista's pitching suggestion. The next ball whizzed right past Armin without him even thinking about swinging and landed in Krista's glove.The next pitch Armin tapped right into Jean's glove.

“All right, this inning, we're going to have the best damn defense the world has ever seen,” Eren said, hands on Armin's shoulders. “Sasha and Connie are unused to these positions, so we have to give them as much support as we can.” He turned and curled his fingers into a determined fist. “We can do this.”

Armin smiled and then saluted. “We can do this!”

Maybe they could have, but they didn't. Ymir got a three-run home run. As she crossed the plate, she turned to her brother and jeered, “Sorry Bertl. Oh wait, but I'm not. I am the queen. And the king. And you just got owned.” She high-fived Krista and then stood back, arms folding, tongue sliding over her lips.

At least that gave Berthold the will to end the inning right then. When he passed Ymir, he smiled, and she winked.

By the fourth inning, the score stood 7-2, and the Potatoes had one guy in scoring position. Armin came up to bat and patiently waited through three balls for that fastball. He pounded it just past the tip of Annie's glove and made it to first base. Sasha hit a double, sending Reiner and Armin home, and then she made it to home by stealing third and then Connie hit a single—a moment Armin replayed in slow-mo: everyone open-mouthed, Jean possibly about to shit a brick, Krista leaping to catch the high throw from Mina while Sasha went into a slide, followed by everyone then using their open mouths to start yelling, Ymir and Reiner leaning in to serve as umpire as Krista just barely missed Sasha as the brunette touched the base. The Potatoes jumped as one, fists pumping the air.

In the ninth inning, Reiner at bat, Ymir pitched a flawless curveball. The ball zipped past a stunned Reiner and into Krista's glove with the most satisfying snap a wiffle ball could give and the game ended: 11-5, Freckles. As if the Freckles had planned it, they all went after the Potatoes, one for each—two for Reiner because he was so big—and grabbed them. Marco's arms wrapped around Armin's waist and he lifted him up into the air. Before he knew it, Armin was being tossed into the oncoming waves. The saltwater blasted against his body and he closed his eyes just in time. When the water settled down, he shook his hair and noticed his team mates in the vicinity in the same situation. The Freckles stood on the dry sand, pointing and laughing. 

But the Potatoes would have none of that. They charged towards the Freckles—Armin for Marco—and dragged them through the sand, churning up wet sand—and threw them into an even bigger wave than the one before. Sasha and Connie threw their hands up in the air, gave some primal cry, and then ran in again. Eren grabbed Armin's hand and pulled him in. 

Everyone swirled around in the water, tossed around with the forceful waves, laughing, and someone's trunks escaped their body—Berthold's, and Reiner went diving after them while Berthold sat down, too busy laughing to bother blushing. Reiner reappeared a moment later, trunks in his teeth and he blocked the view while his boyfriend slipped them back on. Soon as they were safely on his beautiful hips, Reiner brought him down in a dip and gave him a salty kiss—just before a breaker crashed over them.

Armin smiled and looked over at Eren. He didn't know what he was planning on saying, but his finger reached out and tapped Eren's shoulder. When the brunet turned, a huge wave came in and toppled them over. Eren's body came smashing into Armin's body and they washed up onto half-dry land. Armin just lay down on the sand, content to stay there for a few precious minutes before the team decided on another crazy activity. And Eren was there, darker skin covered with salty streams of water that sparkled in the sun. His chest rose and fell, slowing as the seconds passed and he caught his breath. When it finally settled, Armin poked him in the stomach and Eren let out an inhuman noise.

“Eren, come here!” Connie called.

With a wink at Armin, Eren got up and splashed over to Connie, Mikasa, Sasha, and Marco who were trying to make a steady human pyramid that resisted the wild fury of Poseidon.

Armin rolled over onto his stomach and bent his legs up into the air, ankles twisting around each other. His chin rested on his hands as he watched attempt after attempt. Even with Mikasa's seemingly inhuman strength, they weren't doing too well fighting the waves, but with Eren and Sasha's passion, they would not give up until they made a pyramid that lasted at least a fraction of a second. He wanted to join them, but that would give the pyramid an off number and then they would need to recruit some more, but the others looked busy—except for Annie, sitting in the sand a few meters away, but she was staring close-eyed into the blue sky, listening to Mina chat excitedly about something.

_Why not?_ Armin thought and hopped up, slipping over and plopping down beside them.

“Hi, Armin,” Mina said cheerfully.

“Hi,” he said. “You guys did really good in the game.”

“Thanks!” Mina smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Annie lowered her face and opened her eyes. “Thanks,” she said in her usual expressionless voice. “What are they doing?” Her eyes narrowed, and Armin followed her gaze to Eren and the others still trying the pyramid. They almost got it but at the last second, right before Connie got to the top and settled, a wave came in and they all collapsed in a tangle of limbs and shouts half-gurgled when their heads went under the water.

“We could make a glorious pyramid if we all helped!” Mina said.

“Having a sturdier base with Reiner and Berthold would help,” Armin said, going along with the idea. “And keep Marco on the bottom. Add Ymir. Then put Mikasa, Sasha, and Jean on the next row up.” He tilted his head to the side, mentally picturing the construction of this pyramid in his head, minusing the waves, because he didn't want to calculate that in until the end. “Then Connie and Mina or Eren above them. With Krista or Annie on top. I mean, that leaves three extra people, unfortunately, but if you want one big pyramid that's how it would have to be.”

“I don't mind sitting out,” Annie said.

Armin smiled slightly. “Neither would I. We could take the picture.”

“I'll sit out too,” Mina said. “And I brought a camera. Should I go tell them all?” She got up on her knees and looked at the two blondes with dancing eyes. “I think I remember what you said, Armin. And if we follow that, they'll totally be able to get it.”

“They should probably move over there,” Armin said, pointing about ten meters to the right of their current position. “The waves aren't as intense right there, but still strong enough for them to think it's a worthy challenge.”

Mina saluted and then skipped away through the sand, first bringing those not involved in the current triangle into a huddle to convince them to join. They went along easily, the two package deals, and then Jean who was more than happy to go join his very good best friend Marco. Armin watched the amalgamation group together and listen to Mina as she delved out instructions for the perfect human pyramid.

Meanwhile, Annie had raised her face to the sky again, eyes closed. “Make sure to take a picture when they all fall down. Because they will.”

Armin chuckled. “Sure.”

The others started getting ready. Awaiting his turn, Eren glanced lazily over in Armin's direction and suddenly his whole body tensed, his chest rising, shoulders back, chin up. He muttered something to Mikasa and then hopped over. “Hey, Armin, you going to come help too?”

“Odd man out. I arranged everything anyway. There's my contribution,” Armin said, tipping his soaked hat.

Eren glanced at Annie. “You sure?”

“Mhm. I just want to rest for a few minutes anyway,” he insisted.

“Okay.” Eren waved and was pulled back by Jean's annoyed voice.

“When they're done, you wanna play catch?” Annie asked.

Armin blinked. “Uh, sure?”

Her eyes opened and she swung her head in his direction. “If you don't want to, say no.”

“No, I do. I'm just surprised,” he said.

“That I want to play catch with you?” Annie's mouth lifted at the corner in amusement. “We're team mates right? Why's that so hard to believe? Besides, if we're going to be in the infield together, shouldn't we practice throwing to each other?”

“Coach Levi did say I needed to work on that.” Armin rubbed the back of his neck.

“See? Win-win.” She looked over at the pyramid—they were on their third attempt.

Mina came running back—passing them to her towel to get the camera—and then positioned herself on Armin's other side. She flipped through the settings, making sure it was perfect, and then set it down in her lap. Her mouth screwed up as she observed the others. Anytime they looked off, she raised a hand and made gestures, yelling to them how to fix themselves.

On the seventh try, Krista managed to get on top and Connie screeched at Mina to take the picture before they all died. Mina waited a few seconds for the incoming tide. Right when it hit them, she snapped a picture. Four seconds later Jean sneezed and set off a chain reaction. The camera clicked multiple times over the course of the next few seconds, catching every delicious frame of the great fall. Mina flicked through all the pictures, an evil look in her eye and a grin on her face.

The others leaned in, and the pictures were indeed magnificent. They had their one picture of perfection—with hilarious faces as the cold water smashed against their asses—and even better expressions during their falls from grace. The ex-pyramid members crawled out of the ocean, groaning and complaining, especially Connie who apparently got mouthful of Sasha toes. She tackled him, rubbing her hand over his buzzed head.

A mitt landed in Armin's lap. He scrambled to his feet and backpedaled away from Annie who already had a mitt on and a real baseball in her hand. Without warning, she threw the ball and he just managed to catch it, barely catching himself from toppling over and spraying sand all over a tanning lady. He muttered an apology anyway and sidestepped to move to no-man's land, and Annie followed suit to line up.

Casually, he threw it over to Annie. She caught it and a second later it came slapping back into his mitt, right in the center. “Ow!” he hissed, shaking his hand. He pulled the ball out and gave Annie an intense stare. _I can play this game._ His arm angled back and then threw, flicking the ball from his fingers. She caught it almost lazily. And of course, a second later it came whipping back at him, but at least this time he caught it nearer the top of the glove to spare his hand.

On one throw, Annie took a few steps back and looked up into the sky. “Get ready,” she said and then chucked the ball high into the air. Armin tracked the ball—blocking the sun with one hand—through the salt-encrusted air, positioning his glove just right as it came down with a beautiful smack several seconds later.

“Hey, can I give it a go?” Eren asked, running up. His eyes were lit, excited at the challenge, and probably for the chance to have some kind of testosterone-pumped one-sided battle with Annie.

“Sure,” Annie said with a shrug.

Armin handed Eren the mitt and wished him good luck. He took a seat next to Mina and watched, subconsciously biting his lip.

Annie had been holding back. It hadn't seemed like it, but now as she threw to Eren, Armin was sure she was trying her damnedest to either knock his hand off or make him look like the most incompetent baseball player in the world. Probably both. And it shook Eren down to his foundation. Only a minute in and his tosses back resembled that of elementary-school Eren. Sweat poured down his face in waterfalls, and he almost seemed to be gasping for breath. When Armin tried to suggest he take a break, Eren cut him off with a sharp, “No. I got this. I got this.” Armin went back to biting his lip, this time trying to hold back an amused smile.

“Hey, Armin,” Annie said mid-throw, “why don't we play Monkey in the Middle.”

“Is she serious?” Armin asked.

Mina nodded. “It's her favorite game.”

“Eren's the monkey,” Annie said.

“What?!” Eren tried to shout, but mostly it just came out like a wheeze.

Armin got another mitt and passively herded Eren into the midpoint between the blondes. He waved his mitt to show he was ready, and they began.

No matter how hard Eren tried, he could never get the ball. Annie would not let him get within five feet, and by the time Armin threw, Eren was recovering from trying to grab Annie's throw. It went like this for a full-solid minute, Mina cheering on Eren from the sidelines. But Eren just got sadder and sadder, a diminishing point of darkness on the brightness of the beach. Until finally, Annie called it quits.

“What? I'm not done!” Eren said, pissy.

Annie shrugged. “Too bad. Play with someone else then.” She walked over to Mina and sat down again.

Eren gave Armin a desperate look, but Armin too was ready to take a rest. The brunet's jaw dropped and the shook his head. “Fine. But this isn't over.”

“Yes it is. I thought that's what we just decided?” Annie said innocently.

He just stared at her.

Armin took Eren's arm and brought him over to sit in the sand. But less than ten seconds and Eren was already on his feet again. “I'm at the beach to do something. Let's go battle waves or something.”

“I'll join you later, maybe,” Armin said with a smile. “I'm going to, er, tan.”

“Tan?” Eren said weakly. He walked away towards the water, shoulders hunched dejectedly. They lifted a bit when Mikasa called him over. The group was getting ready to play some new game. They called Mina, Armin, and Annie too, but only Mina joined in.

Armin scooted over to Annie, who was lying down on her stomach. He glanced at her shoulders. “Did you reapply sunscreen? You're getting a burn.”

The blonde reached for the sunscreen and handed it to Armin. “Would you mind?”

“Sure,” he said pleasantly and squirted some into his hands. He sat Indian style beside her and began rubbing the lotion into her warm shoulders. “So do you like it here? I mean, at Zhiganshina? You transferred schools just to be on the team. Which I don't understand, since your old team is considerably better than this one. Historically.”

She shrugged. “Sometimes they get full of themselves. Too into the competition. I just want to play baseball to play baseball. And the Wings of Freedom are more casual. My old team would consider this beach weekend a waste of time.”

Armin paused for a moment and then put more sunscreen on his hands. “Well, I'm glad you're here. You're really good.”

“Thanks,” she said.

Someone screamed over by the water, and Armin glanced over—Mikasa had Sasha in a headlock and Connie was throwing his hands in the air while Berthold laughed so hard he'd probably start pissing. Armin blinked and continued with his lotion smearing.

“You're not terrible at baseball,” Annie said. “You love the sport though, and everyone can sense that. That's good for a team.”

Armin's mouth rounded. “T-thanks.” He looked at her shoulders and back and then snapped the lid on the sunscreen. “You want me to get anywhere else? I got your back.”

“I can do the rest myself,” she said and moved up onto her knees.

“Hey, I'm sorry about Eren,” Armin blurted out.

But Annie actually smiled the tiniest bit. “Don't apologize. It's obvious what his problem is.”

“It . . . is?” Armin asked faintly.

She reopened the sunscreen and squeezed some into her hand. “It's unsurprising, especially with such an extraordinarily gay team. He likes you. Even if he doesn't know it consciously yet. And for some reason he thinks I'm competition.”

Armin looked over at the others, seeking Eren in the crowd. “He likes me? Wait, why does he think you're . . . I mean, you haven't even showed interest in anybody. We just talk. Are you sure? How do you know?”

“Watch this.” She stopped lathering her arms and got real close to Armin, leaning in, making her eyelids heavy, biting her lip the tiniest bit. Then she gave a fake giggle and poked Armin in the arm. “You're so funny.” She started mouthing a countdown from three and at the end, voila, Eren appeared.

“We're about to play Red Rover, you wanna come play? You've been resting for like ten minutes. You should be good now, right?” Eren asked, voice unusually sharp.

Armin held back a smile. “It's only been two minutes.”

Eren glanced at Annie. “Okay. Just tell me when you're ready. Not as fun without you.” He ran backwards a few steps to keep his eyes on Armin longer, then turned around and joined Mikasa's line facing Reiner's line.

Immediately, Annie moved away and continued protecting her skin, while Armin stared after Eren with his mouth open.

“Told you.”

Jean and Marco broke away from the others and then ran over to Armin and Annie. “We're going to get some food and a cake we ordered for Mikasa's birthday. Be back soon,” Marco said, and the two of them vanished over into the parking lot.

“It could still just be coincidence,” Armin countered.

Annie got to her feet. “Follow me.” She led him over to an ice cream stand and ordered a frozen chocolate-covered banana. Then she put it in Armin's hand, and took the other, leading him over to watch the Red Rover game. “Now eat that. Slowly. Like you're trying to get a rise out of him.”

“But I've never done that before,” Armin said in alarm.

“If you want evidence, do it.”

Armin looked at the banana. “For science.” He peeled away the wrapper and then stuck the tip of the banana in his mouth. _I'm a terrible person for doing this._ He took a small bite, swallowed, and then raised his hand and called, “For luck, Eren!” And then he lifted the banana. 

Eren glanced over and then did a double-take when he saw Armin start running his lips over the chocolate banana. His whole body froze, ears red, and he was so enraptured with Armin and his banana that when Connie the cannon came running over, he barreled right through the arm link between Eren and Mina and everyone on his team cussed him out.

“Oh my God,” Armin said. He looked over at Annie who raised her eyebrows once. “He's not right, right? You don't like me do you?”

“You said yourself I haven't showed interest in anybody. Perks of being asexual,” Annie said. “Which only Mina knows besides you now.”

Armin handed her the banana. “Uh, do you want the rest of it? I don't even like bananas.”

She took it and bit off a huge chunk.

“I have a terrible plan,” Armin said. “If you pretend you _do_ like me, then maybe Eren will confess to try and split us up or something. Is it believable?”

“You're right, that is a stupid plan,” she said. “I do like romance sometimes, so it's not completely unbelievable. And Eren's too stupid to notice that or care anyway. All he'll see is a girl with his best friend who he subsequently wants to bone and that's all he needs to do whatever hormone-enraged teenage boys like him do.”

Armin paled. “Wants to bone.”

She actually gave a little laugh. “You say that like that now, but later. Why don't you confess to _him_?”

He snapped his head over to her. “I don't think of Eren that way.”

“Uh huh,” she said, unbelieving. “Fine, I'll go along with your plan.”

“Thanks,” he said and watched Mikasa's team call Reiner. A doom call. He almost killed them, wisely avoiding the arm link that included Mikasa.

Freckles and the Stallion came back fifteen minutes later bearing edible gifts. The team sat in a circle on their towels surrounding a picnic blanket filled with fried chicken, sandwiches, potato salad, fruit salad, five two-liters of soda, and a giant ice cream birthday cake covered until it was time to eat. On the top, written in red frosting like mini-scarves, read “Happy birthday, Mikasa.” And then in tiny nearly illegible frosting “Probably better than everyone else on this team at baseball if we're being completely honest here.” They lifted their red plastic cups of soda and toasted to Mikasa and dug in.

Annie sat beside Armin, arms touching, occasionally looking over at him and smiling. On the other side of Armin, Eren pouted, smashing ginormous piles of food onto his plate, and probably ignoring Mikasa as she explained something about his baseball playing to him. When Sasha asked Mikasa a question, Armin took a hold of the opportunity, and said to Eren, “You still okay after Berthold ran you over?”

Eren looked over, initially angry, but then it melted away and he grinned. “I think it shocked Berthold more than it did me.”

“Of course,” Armin agreed easily, smiling widely.

“Let's play a game,” Reiner declared. “Never Have I Ever.”

Berthold groaned and leaned into him, which made Reiner grin wider.

The big blond set down his plate. “I'll start. Make sure your glasses are filled. Never have I ever watched porn.”

“Reiner, I think you have missed the point of the game,” Ymir said. “You're supposed to say something you actually haven't done.”

Reiner put his hands up. “What? I haven't watched porn.”

“Yes you have,” Berthold said.

“Fine, fine,” Reiner said, rolling his eyes. “Never have I ever shoplifted.”

Ymir and Krista immediately took a sip, tapping their cups together. Everyone locked eyes with each other. Finally, begrudgingly, Armin lifted his cup and took a sip. He could almost hear the collective mental gasp.

Next came Ymir, and everybody braced themselves for the inevitable. “Never have I ever had sex with a man.”

Reiner, Berthold, and Sasha drank and everybody stared at Sasha. When she finished drinking, she only winked. Everyone looked at Connie and he blushed. “Why are you all looking at me?!”

“My turn!” Krista said in her tiny voice. “Never have I ever gotten the chicken pox!”

Everybody but Mikasa drank to that.

“Mikasa, do you have any flaws?” Reiner asked.

“No,” Mikasa said.

“Oh, oh! I got a good one!” Mina said, moving up to sit on her calves. She lifted her glass in the air. “Never have I ever seen Coach Levi naked.” And then she looked pointedly at Berthold who blushed and was the only one to take a drink—an exceptionally long one to hide his blushing face.

Ymir patted his shoulder. “And how was it, brother?”

“Everything he'd hoped and dreamed,” Reiner said. “He even drew me a picture.”

Berthold dropped his cup and gave Reiner a look. “No I did not.”

Sasha pointed in accusation. “Ha! Liars don't use contractions.”

The look shifted to Sasha, even more wide eyed. “What? Who says that?”

“Everyone, obviously,” Connie said, folding his arms and closing his arms like he was pretending to be some wise man.

Before they could continue their assault against poor Berthold, Annie went. “Never have I kissed Marco Bodt.”

Marco got a little pink and smiled in embarrassment while next to him Jean frowned and gave Annie a death look. He kept this glare as he took a long luscious sip of soda.

Reiner put his hands around his mouth and called, “Gayyyyyyy.”

“Armin's turn!” Eren said, with a strong pat on the back that made Armin gurgle some babyish noise that had his skin growing hot, but only Annie and Eren heard, and they ignored it.

“Hmm.” Armin lifted his glass. “Never have I ever left the country.”

Everybody but Armin lifted their cup and drank and Eren gave him another pat on the back while Sasha shouted, “Mexico!! WHOOO.” Then she grabbed Connie and gave him a noogie while he sputtered nonsense.

“New guy number two,” Reiner wooped. “What do you say, Jaeger?”

Eren laughed mischievously. “Never have I ever watched porn.”

Reiner pointed and winked and then drank. So did Berthold, with the most disappointed sigh Armin had ever heard. Mina drank too then defended herself by saying it was a pop-up and she had no control over her internet settings back then, and that now, she had pop-up blocker and had never seen another rogue porn penis since. Surprisingly to Armin, Krista and Ymir's hands remained still, and instead Mikasa took a drink. No one asked her about it, though Eren gave her a look as if silently affirming it was what he thought it was and she nodded back.

“All right, birthday girl,” Ymir said. “What have you never done then?”

Mikasa adjusted her red scarf, pushing some hair out of her face, and said in an even voice, “Never have I ever kissed Armin.” And then she gave Eren a pointed look.

“That was like kindergarten,” Eren complained and took a sip. His ears were red though, and that made Armin smile.

But then beside him, lying to help the terrible plan, Annie took a long drink of soda and Armin had never seen Eren's face go so blank.

“Whoa whoa, what am I missing?” Reiner asked, both arms shoving Berthold and Marco back by the chest as if they were in the way. “When did you two do the dirty?”

“The dirty?” Ymir rolled her eyes.

“Yes the dirty. Then there's the filthy, which is my favorite.” As if he just realized what his arm was doing to Berthold, he squeezed his boyfriend's shoulder in apology. “Which you know very well.”

Berthold half-smiled and gave a little affirmative shrug.

“Uh--” Armin tried to speak but his mind was unnaturally empty of any kind of believable answer. So instead his faux girlfriend answered with a simple, “I bet you'd love to find that out, but too bad, because you never will. It's our secret.” But then she grabbed Armin's shirt and pulled him forward, kissing him right on the lips.

It was silent for a few seconds after they pulled away and Armin was fully convinced that he was definitely not straight. First, because at first it was unpleasant—not that she was a bad kisser, though not that he had any experience to know—but second because during the last half, he pictured Eren instead of Annie. He didn't think of Eren that way? Lie. He thought of Eren that way and it was useless to deny it anymore. Even as they pulled away, he could see in Annie's eyes that she knew too.

The first person to speak was Ymir, and she said, “Oh my God. Man and woman. I almost forgot what it looked like.”

“Hey!” Sasha protested.

Ymir winked at her.

They continued on, but Armin wasn't fully with it anymore. Instead he kept replaying the kiss in his head—with Eren substituted as Annie, of course—and then trying to plan a way to get Eren to recreate the kiss from kindergarten for him so he could remember properly, but then he realized he was going crazy and he already a plan going anyway, which is why Annie kissed him in the first place. Besides he needed time to sort through these feelings before he made any move. Which was why the first plan, waiting for Eren to confess, was perfect. It would take some time, but eventually Eren would blurt it out because that's the kind of person he was.

_I have to plan more and longer homework sessions,_ Armin said.

Eren punched him in the arm. “Everyone's going swimming. You coming?”

“Huh?” Armin blinked out his thoughts. Everyone but Connie and Annie—who were cleaning everything up—had already taken off for the water. “Sure. One second. I promise.” He smiled.

When Eren left, Armin crawled over to Annie. She spoke before he could, “I haven't kissed many people, but it's enough for me to know that you're a terrible kisser.”

“Uh, okay,” Armin said. “I hope it wasn't uncomfortable for you.”

“Armin, if it would made me uncomfortable, I wouldn't have kissed you,” she snorted.

“Good. Just making sure.”

A lock of hair fell from behind her ear and she put it back. “Your boyfriend's waiting for you.”

“H-he's not my boyfr--” Armin started to say but it ended up turning into nonsense. He escaped before Annie could give him a judging look and joined Eren in the ocean.

Jean grabbed him round the waist and lifted him in the air, ready to use him as a body shield for an oncoming wave, but Eren came to the rescue and tore Armin out of his Jean's arms and instead pushed Jean into the wave when it crashed down. The wave swept the two of them back towards the sand, but they were laughing—even harder when spluttering, Jean stood up and shouted, “Fuck you, Jaeger!”

“There are children around, Jean!” Marco said in a worried voice.

“Should we team up against them?” Armin suggested.

Eren wiped his hair back out of his face and smiled. “I like the way you think.” He punched Armin in the arm again and then pulled him to his feet. “I'm going for Jean. You go for Marco. See that wave?” When Armin nodded, he said, “All right . . . in three . . . two . . . one . . . Hey, Kirschtein, your freckled mother isn't here to save you now!” They charged and Eren probably wacked into Jean a little too hard, while Armin merely walked up to Marco and the two of them watched the other boys with happy sighs.

They all stayed still nearly dusk. Annie had already packed most things, preferring to stay and tan or read under the umbrella while everyone else swam or played catch or wiffle ball. Jean actually had the beginnings of a black eye and Eren complained about a sore wrist as he, Mikasa, and Armin walked back to their towels.

“I think you almost killed Jean,” Armin said. He looked over at the Stallion, who was holding an ice bag to his eye while Marco gave him the most loving amused look. They were best friends too. But they exuded that romantic vibe too. Annie was right: the team was extraordinarily gay. And Armin and Eren could add to that by the end of the semester.

“I think he broke my wrist,” Eren said, flopping it around.

Mikasa gently took his hand and made him stop. “It's not broken, but if you keep doing that, it'll just make it worse and you won't be able to play.”

“Yes, _Mom_ ,” Eren said, snatching his hand back. But he gave it a sad frown. “Maybe I should use an ice pack too. If Coach Levi hears that I've hurt my wrist he might keep me from playing until--”

“Good. You shouldn't play if he says you shouldn't,” Armin said. “Just let the doctor see it before we go to practice. If you do get benched, then that'll just leave more time for studying math.” That came out more cheerfully than he intended.

But so did Eren's “sarcastic,” “Oh great.”

They all dropped by the motel, said their final goodbyes, and then piled in the cars heading to home. Armin sat in the front and controlled the radio, making sure to play the love songs in full and skip the other ones, while aiming pointed looks back at Jean and Marco. Jean didn't notice, preoccupied with his eye, but Marco caught Armin's eye a couple of times and he smiled in embarrassment and looked out the window.

Ten minutes later the two of them were already conked out, leaning against one another. Even Mikasa drifted off, leaning against the window, mouth open and rounded. Armin turned down the radio and focused on driving. Until his phone went off and he asked Eren to read the text.

“From Annie,” Eren said, monotone. “Had a fun day. See you tomorrow. . . _Heart._ ” He put the phone back in the cup holder and then put his feet up on the dash, making the most pouting face ever. A second later he put his feet back down before Armin could say his parents didn't like that.

“It _was_ a good day. I think Mikasa had fun. Never had so many people at her birthday party before. Did you have fun?” Armin asked cheerily.

Eren shrugged, but when he caught sight of Armin's sparkling eyes directed at him, he quickly looked away and mumbled, “Yeah it was good.”

Armin sighed wistfully, and then watched the road.

**Author's Note:**

> I love baseball so much. SO MUCH.
> 
> arenoptara.tumblr.com


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